


Episode IX: Resurgence and Reckoning

by bluntblade



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Episode IX, Armitage Hux Hates Kylo Ren, Episode IX rewrite, Female Knights of Ren, Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), Gray Jedi Rey (Star Wars), Lesbian Rey (Star Wars), Multi, No Force Dyad, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Not Reylo, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rey (Star Wars) is Nobody, Rey is Not a Palpatine, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, The First Order Sucks, The Knights of Ren were Luke's Apprentices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 48
Words: 109,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24114796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluntblade/pseuds/bluntblade
Summary: Three years after the Battle of Crait, the Resistance seek a way to fight back as the First Order extends its reach. Rey and her friends fight for the freedom of the Galaxy, while she struggles with the inheritance of the Jedi Order. But both Kylo Ren's vendetta against her and General Hux's loathing of his Supreme Leader are about to reach new, devastating heights...This is a complete alternative Episode IX, building from The Last Jedi (and pinching a few things from TRoS and the DotF script). Huge thanks to my beta readers Kelborn, Nomus, Beren and Thorn.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Finn/Rose Tico, Kaydel Ko Connix & Poe Dameron & Finn & Rose Tico, Kaydel Ko Connix & Rey, Kaydel Ko Connix/Rey, Knights of Ren & Kylo Ren, Luke Skywalker & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Poe Dameron & Finn & Kylo Ren & Rey, Poe Dameron & Finn & Rey & Rose Tico, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey & Luke Skywalker
Comments: 42
Kudos: 47





	1. Title Crawl

_**A long time ago, in a Galaxy far, far away…** _

**It is a lean, restless time for the RESISTANCE. Having escaped the FIRST ORDER at Crait, General Leia Organa’s brave freedom fighters have been constantly on the move for two years, waging a campaign of raids and rescue missions against the First Order. Luke Skywalker’s valiant sacrifice has returned a spark of hope to the fight and brought new allies to their banner, but their enemy remains terrifyingly powerful.**

**Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is fighting his own war on two fronts, trying to root out the Resistance even as his vast legions fight to bring the Galaxy under his dominion. Newly returned from his dark pilgrimage into remote and shadowed regions of space, he has grown obsessed with crushing all threats to his power. Even the First Order’s officers live in fear of their master. But Ren’s true vendetta is with the young Jedi Rey.**

**As the First Order tightens its grip, the Resistance know that they are running out of time. They must find a way to strike back at their enemy before freedom is ground out of the Galaxy completely…**


	2. Run Quiet

The little squadron moved across the starfield like ghosts, almost invisible in the faint light. They went slowly, not daring to risk detection by rapid movement.

Finn, Resistance captain, watched the stars pass in silence, meditative. Commander Poe Dameron glanced at his friend and smiled, shaking his head as he realised Finn hadn’t moved in a good ten minutes.

Slow and quiet was a thing that Poe Dameron was still getting used to. But then again, there was plenty about his life that he wasn’t used to these days. Like a Galaxy without a Republic and the First Order bent on outright subjugation.

After Crait and all Poe’s hard lessons, there had come three years of insurgency as the Resistance rebuilt in the face of a Galactic conquest. Under Genera Leia Organa’s command, they had hauled themselves back from the brink. They had taken the shattered remnants of the New Republic – armies, fleets, intelligence networks – and forged them into a force that dug in where they could and retrieved assets from under the looming wave of invasion where they could not. Poe, with Finn, Rey and Rose serving under him, had spent most of that time leading rescue missions and raids.

Yet even now, the odds were stacked against the Resistance as never before. They were still having to play the discretion game.

So it was today. They were slipping through an asteroid ring, two X-Wings, an A-Wing and one transport - the _Spark_ , some wise guy had named the latter. They’d come out of hyperspace a long way out and had been gliding gradually in, minimal lights. Ahead, some way beyond the asteroid, lay a space station. 

“Ship runs quiet,” Finn observed. He was less fidgety than Poe; something of the old Stormtrooper was still there, and he could just go still for hours on end. The handful of soldiers with them were busy with dice or just kicking their heels. “Cloaking device is tighter than almost anything I’ve seen.”

“Good,” said Rose, over by the console. “Those shipwrights didn’t shortchange us - they promised a stealthy transport with plenty of space. On that note, Poe -” she beckoned him over. “Triple-check, we’ve got eight coming on board. Three soldiers, one medic, the rest miscellaneous except… one cracker?”

Poe saw Finn’s cheek twitch and raises a hand to forestall him. His friend’s previous experience with coders hadn’t exactly endeared them to him. “They’ve got credentials, bud. Cracker’s a Twi’lek kid, nephew of an old Alliance trooper.”

Finn relaxed just a little. “Guess that’s good. Reliable crackers are like gold dust.”

“We didn’t exactly vet _that_ bastard at Canto,” Rose pointed out as a chime sounded. “Sounds like you’re up, Poe.”

“On it.” Poe stepped into the cockpit, patting C'ai on the shoulder and hit the radio. “Jess and co, you know what comes next - limpet drill. Park and get comfy, but stay awake.”

The three fighters peeled off and attached themselves to asteroids. The _Spark_ flew into the open void, towards the station - a slab-sided structure embedded in the ice of a much larger celestial body. 

This was Sinta - the kind of place which, Rose would say, the Galaxy only noticed when they wanted to take from it. It was a stopover base, where raw materials were collected together from a few nearby systems. Metals and minerals were accumulated to make them worth exporting, and hauled away by freighter.

While it lay well outside the Republic’s territory, Sinta had always been good to the Resistance, perhaps because the Resistance had been good to them too. Now, however, the First Order’s shadow had fallen across the sector. This mission was as much rescue mission as recruitment and resupply. 

C’ai grumbled. “I’ll never like doing this, Poe.” BB-8 scuttled in, warbling, and C’ai turned a little in his seat to regard the droid. “You’re not wrong, little friend, but that doesn’t make me hate it any less.”

“Well, I appreciate the optimism, buddy.” Poe took the seat next to C’ai, absent-mindedly patting BB-8 and eliciting a contented chirp. “These ops will pay off if we do enough of them. You’ve seen the numbers too.”

“Uh huh.” C’ai consultd the console. “ _Sparky_ says ten minutes, Poe. Wanna arm up?”

“We’re not impugning this good ship with that nickname, C’ai. Not so long as she keeps us alive.”

Poe returned to the hold to find the soldiers nearly ready and Finn already tooled up, and frowned at the shock maul in his friend’s left hand. “Finn, are you sure you’ve got room to swing that if we’ve got unwelcome guests?”

Finn smiled back, pointing at the portal opposite him. “Nah, but you can get a good jab in.”

Rose nudged him. “Still best to keep it out of sight. It’s the last thing a rebel wants to see.”

“And this is why I always bring someone sensible along,” Poe added as Finn tucked his weapon away. “Now, boys and girls, look welcoming but be ready to repel boarders just in case.”

The _Spark_ slipped into a minor hangar. No radio contact, nothing that could be easily intercepted or recorded. Just a prearranged time and place, and one mundane docking chute.

Despite his own words, Poe tensed up when the ship came to a halt. There was a clang and a whir as the access chute locked to the ship. Then the portal opened, revealing four humans, one skinny Twi’lek and three others, whose species Poe wasn’t quite sure of.

He stepped forward. “We are the spark…”

“...that will light the fire,” replied the only woman in the group. “Honoured to meet you, Commander Dameron.” She was clearly the leader of the group, with short grey hair. “We’re ready to do our bit.”

A big man stepped forward, a crate in his arms. “And we come bearing gifts. Mostly mundane spare parts, but we’ve got some blast cartridges here for you too.”

“Much appreciated,” Poe snuck a look - and true enough, there were the cartridges. “Welcome to the Resistance. You guys come aboard and get comfy. We'll do the hauling.”

But there was one newcomer who held himself a little differently to the others. He was young, but the left side of his pale face was riddled with scars, trailing down into a heavy beard. “I can’t claim to be a _new_ friend, Commander.” Poe waited for him to get the rest out. This, clearly, was one of the Resistance’s many spies. “Designation Acklay, codeword ‘Coldstar’. And,” he extended a hand, and something glinted between his fingers. “I’ve got a gift of my own.”

Poe accepted the data-disc, frowning. The man’s passphrases were correct, but… “We weren’t expecting you.”

“I had to break off an assignment when I received this. Came in from a colleague in the Tion Sector, priority ‘”Scarif’.”

Poe looked at the disc with renewed interest. “You’re serious?” “Priority Scarif” was a holdover from the Civil War, reserved for the most important intelligence. The map to Luke Skywalker had been given that designation. “The hell’s so important about this little thing?”

“Right now, your guess is as good as mine. Been short on hardware and our man who sent that… ‘s buried the data deep.”

Poe thought for a moment, the disc’s slight weight suddenly very tangible indeed. Whatever was encoded in this thing, sealed away under all that digital protection, could give them a much-needed advantage in the war.

Against his better judgement, Poe Dameron found himself feeling hopeful.

“Well, thanks in advance.” He turned to Finn and the others. “OK guys, let’s get this gear on quickly.”

Ten minutes saw most of the supplies loaded. Finn rolled his shoulders as he walked across the shuttle roof to the pallet of crates. A part of him was still listening out, however, for the scream of TIE engines or the drumming of booted feet outside.

“Ooh, that’s the day’s workout,” Poe groaned as he grabbed his last crate.

“You’ve gotta get tougher than that, Poe,” Finn said. “This is what happens if your job puts you on your ass all day. But _please_ , bend the knees, not your back. Ain’t about brute strength.”

Poe grunted. “Speaking of brute strength - the big guy, says he was a miner. Reckon he’d make a Scrapper?”

Finn shrugged. “Put him in a practice space when we get back to fleet and then we’ll see. Rey and I don’t just want bruisers in our squad.”

“If they were all bruisers, Rey wouldn’t really fit in herself,” Poe mused.

“Well _that_ just says you’ve never had her come at you.” He changed the subject. “We hear from Rey yet?”

Their Jedi friend was offworld, on a mission of her own. Finn had become used to being parted from her as necessity dictated, but he doubted that he’d ever be truly comfortable with it. The sooner their little crew was reunited, so much the better.

“Uh huh. Says she’s found the right world so, after this, we’ll rendezvous on Eadu and switch over to the Falcon. Let these guys carry on home.”

Rose poked her head around the door. “If you boys are ready to go? Everything else is stowed.” 

Poe and Finn hurried aboard, and even as they were tying the crates down, the _Spark_ detached and flew back into the darkness.

Finn sat back, listening to the stories being traded between his people and the newcomers. He was happy to keep his own counsel these days, and only spoke to ask questions. That was Leia’s advice, and it seemed to be working so far. 

“Definitely a quiet ride,” one of the soldiers said, glancing up at the cabin roof with a smile. 

“Don’t speak too soon,” Rose said reproachfully.

But in Finn’s head there was suddenly a sound like thunder, a pressure behind his eyes. The sounds around him suddenly seemed distant, and he felt a distinct sense of impending danger. He’d felt it once before, on Takodana.

Straight away, he was up and running. “Poe! C’ai! Something’s coming!”

They turned to him with a look of plain disbelief, but Poe saw the expression on his face.

“Cloaking field, C’ai.”

C’ai shot him a sceptical look, but turned back to the console. “Priming,” he grunted. “Going dark in-”

“Proximity alert!” someone shouted while BB-8 squealed. C’ai activated the cloaking device and the ship was plunged into the deep red glow of emergency lighting.

“Now we really get to test that cloaking field.” Poe scanned the sensor readings. “Where’s it coming from, where’s it coming from?”

As it was, it came out of hyperspace nearly on top of them. One moment Finn, Poe and C’ai were staring up at the starfield. The next second, all they could see was an expanse of cold grey metal.

“Star Destroyer?” Finn asked, entering the cockpit.

"Uh huh," Poe murmured.

“That’s not Resurgence-class,” C’ai growled. The enormous ship had a jagged profile, its hull bulked out by heavy armour plating. “It’s one of the new breeds. Poe?”

Finn forced himself to breathe slowly, watching a quartet of TIE fighters circle the huge ship as Poe spoke. “Like we discussed, we keep quiet and coast.” He saw the look on Finn’s face and held up a hand before he could say anything. “Listen pal, this is about more than us here, and the fighters. We escape - _if_ we escape - the First Order guts that station or blows it to bits. With Ren at the top, they’re only getting more vengeful.” He sighed. “And that’s a fast track to us losing the Galaxy’s faith all over again. So, we wait.”

But that was easier to say than do for Finn. Not since Crait had they been so tested, and this felt like having his toenails pulled out. It took a full twenty minutes for them to pass the Star Destroyer and for its bulk to leave their view. It took another twenty for the _Spark_ to get clear of sensor range, Finn pacing the entire time.

Gradually, Poe brought the engines to moderate burn, and they slunk towards the asteroid belt. 

He keyed the radio. “Jess, your guys still awake? Good. We have our new friends, so let’s get out of here.” He turned to C’ai. “Take some time out, pal. You’ve earned a rest, I’ve got it from here.” Finn turned to leave, only for Poe to snap his fingers. “Finn, hold up.”

He sank into a seat next to Poe, waiting for his friend to finish punching in coordinates for the jump.

“And… go.” With the ship safely in hyperspace, Poe turned back to Finn. “You knew that was coming.”

Finn turned to him warily. “I felt like _something_ was coming.”

“Buddy, don’t think for a second that I’m accusing you of anything. But what was that?”

Finn shook his head. “I don’t know… a feeling.”

“An instinct.” Poe put a hand on his shoulder, excitement showing in his face. “Do you think that could’ve been the Force?”

It had felt almost foolish to entertain the idea, but the more Finn thought about it, the less he could think of any alternatives. “I… I think it might have been.” He slumped back in his seat, a strange mix of trepidation and exhilaration coursing through him.

“You oughta talk with Rey when we see her again. Still,” Poe clapped him on the shoulder again. “I’m glad, Finn. We need the Force with us in this. And one more Jedi is one more strike for hope in the Galaxy.”


	3. An Audience with the Supreme Leader

Gorothad, capital world of the First Order’s domain, was what those of weaker spirit called oppressive. The First Order themselves called it the epitome of strength and security, the exemplary planet which put the “order” in their regime’s name.

There were longer-settled worlds among the “Throne Worlds”, the core systems of the First Order, but Gorothad’s relative youth meant that it was held up all the more. It had been colonised by the Empire only half a century before – not that it had been uninhabited. The nonhuman natives had been subjugated, their submission coming after millions of deaths, and the survivors put to work building fortresses and cities. From there, with a new name, the planet rose to become a bastion of Imperial power, unseen by the wider Galaxy.

The secret conquests and colonisations which built Gorothad and worlds like it were a part of Operation Inheritance. Old Emperor Palpatine had planned even for the downfall of his Empire, and decreed this secret campaign to build a territory to which he could withdraw, to carry on the struggle.

As it turned out, the struggle outlived the Emperor, but nonetheless Palpatine’s successors made use of the future Throne Worlds. While Operation Cinder was decreed, a select group of Imperials retreated to the Unknowns, and found a shadow empire waiting for them. There they regrouped, licked their wounds, and began to rebuild. All the while, they watched their victorious enemies, now the New Republic, and waited for the chance to pay back their defeat.

New Stormtrooper legions were raised along the lines devised by General Brendol Hux and quickly given their baptism of fire. The Unknown Regions were full of backwater worlds and primitive societies, and the rising First Order fell upon these with controlled savagery. Millions were enslaved to toil for its industrial machine, and families had children torn away from them to be raised as Stormtroopers in their turn.

Three decades after Palpatine’s death, Throne Worlds made up the heart of a regime which had risen not only to dominate the Unknowns, but to overrun much of the Galaxy. The stagnant New Republic had never taken the First Order as a threat, save for Leia Organa’s Resistance and their supporters, until it was much too late.

At the order of Supreme Leader Snoke, the First Order used their hyperweapon, the Starkiller, to wipe out the Hosnian System and with it, the New Republic Senate and the bulk of their fleet. No sooner had the rest of the Republic realised what had happened, Snoke deployed his merciless legions to seize control of the Galaxy.

The Supreme Leader had not lived to see those conquests unfold. In the course of harrying the Resistance, the only ones who had seen the danger coming and who had destroyed the Starkiller, he was unexpectedly cut down and his personal fleet ravaged. Nonetheless, under his successor, the conquests continued. Over three years of incessant war, the Galactic Core and Mid Rim were trampled into submission. Now Gorothad was the capital of a true Empire, the point from which thousands of worlds were ruled. 

From orbit it was a ball of iron, except for its dark oceans, ringed by space stations, defence satellites and a powerful defence fleet. Today, however, two other flotillas occupied its orbit. One belonged to a general of the First Order, the other to its new ruler.

The planet’s surface was no less brutal when seen from the sky. Towers of black stone and metal thrust up from the surface, creating shadowed canyons where the toiling masses dwelt. Beyond them and the thin clouds they pierced, one could see the looming shapes of Star Destroyers. An ordered world, locked in place by the jackboot.

Other measures were used to instil discipline and loyalty. Screens a hundred metres across displayed the triumphant legions of the First Order on the march across world after subjugated world. From blaring speakers, stentorian voices extolled the achievements of the brilliant General Hux, recently returned from his latest sector-scale conquest. Those same voices proclaimed the violence of his battles as just retribution for the cowardly and treacherous assassination of Supreme Leader Snoke.

The brilliant General Hux had his own thoughts on that last matter, as his command shuttle swept in towards the Palace of Discipline. Certain suspicions too; about just who had held the lightsaber and felled the Supreme Leader’s elite guards. All eight of them, whether or not they were incapacitated by the Resistance cruiser’s ramming attack. Hux’s lip curled briefly.

However, with the domed mass of the Palace looming, the smirk couldn’t last long. Any trace of it died as Hux beheld the massed ranks of Stormtroopers and war machines on the surrounding plaza. He knew who those soldiers ultimately answered to, and he was painfully aware that it wasn’t him.

The guns below were tracking the shuttle, he noticed. A voice droned over the radio, demanding clearance codes. That was new, and he wondered what had motivated the change. Caution, paranoia – or was this instead a calculated insult? Hux’s pilot submitted the codes. The unspoken death sentence was revoked.

The shuttle’s engine whined as it sank to the ground. By chance or design, their designated landing zone was situated among a squadron of hulking gunships. They were truly vast, twenty-five metres long with swept-forward, knife-pointed wings. Heavy cannons nestled under those steely pinions, and the First Order symbol was painted in red upon their black hulls.

Despite himself, Hux found himself admiring the gunships enviously. These were the new Scythe pattern; heavily armed and armoured transports which Ren had demanded. Of course they had gone straight to his own forces; the Supreme Leader was keeping the best toys for himself.

Between the rows of gunships, a company of Stormtroopers formed a corridor of white armour. The nearest labourers too hard had been ordered into ranks. Compared to the Stormtroopers, they were a wretchedly mismatched assembly; they included the only nonhumans permitted in the area of the Palace. They averted their eyes from Hux, for anything else would have been an immediate death sentence.

He stalked down the landing ramp, appreciating as if for the first time how domineering a presence the Palace’s architects had crafted. The tallest towers fell away as one approached, and squares stretched out beneath it, before a great length of steps led up to the plaza. Upon reaching the top of those steps, a pedestrian would find the plaza stretching away for five hundred metres ahead of him and to either side.

The cumulative effect was to leave the great dome, rising a hundred and fifty metres from the plaza and ringed by cannon emplacements, as the one focal point on the horizon. Even the mighty walkers which would normally dominate the area were made to look small in its presence. A fitting touch for the seat of the Supreme Leader. It was a reminder to any onlooker that rightful power in this Galaxy rested in a single entity, the reins held in a single dominating hand.

Once, that sort of display had been reassuring for Hux. With Snoke on the throne, he had felt himself to be an extension of the Supreme Leader’s power, just as the officers and soldiers below him were. With the new Supreme Leader, things were rather different.

He passed through the towering gates and crossed the pillared hall within, where he found Governor Nolten with an escort of Enforcers, clad in the dark blue of the planetary security forces. There were several companies of Stormtroopers too, who snapped off salutes as the general and his own retinue entered.

“Esteemed General Hux.” Nolten’s voice carried only the requisite courtesy. “How go the conquests?”

“Passably.” Hux narrowed his eyes. The Governor was responsible for Gorothad’s defence and overall administration, which technically put him on par with Hux. Technically. In practice, Hux had little time for administrators, military or not. “I trust that two years sat safely in the Galaxy’s most impregnable fortress haven’t been too strenuous for you?” He took to his heels. Nolten made no move to follow.

Hux swept down corridors with a full squad of Stormtroopers at his back, forcing anyone in his path to dive into side passages or do their best to disappear into the walls. That brought the smirk back for a little while, though it faltered as Hux made his way deeper into the structure and found the lights steadily dimmer as he went.

Finally he came to a gate, five metres tall, where plasteel abruptly gave way to stone, guarded by a company of Stormtroopers. Even at a glance, these were clearly a different breed to the bulk of the First Order’s soldiers. They wore divergent patterns of armour, painted a gleaming black and emblazoned with a sword-sigil in red. Most bore advanced blaster-rifles and some, bulked out by reinforced armour and suspensor harnesses, toted heavier weapons. But those closest to the gate held shields and vibro-pikes, a clue to just who they followed into battle.

For these were the “Death Troopers” of the elite 66th Legion, as reconstituted by Kylo Ren following the Battle of Crait. Under his direction the deadliest soldiers from several fractured Legions had been brought together, armed with the very finest equipment. Where Ren fought, the 66th marched. They weren’t answerable to anyone but the Supreme Leader.

Indeed, to Hux everything about them verged on a calculated insult. A reminder that even a general’s control over the Stormtrooper Legions had a well-defined limit. Even if these soldiers parted readily enough as the gate rumbled open.

The chamber beyond was cavernous, sepulchral, its vaulted ceiling lost in the gloom. Every step Hux took echoed loudly, and he shrank into his collar against the chill.

There were stands at the edge of the throne room, the same black stone caught in pillars of pale light. Hux saw a wickedly curved dagger, a crooked statuette, a pale mask and other artefacts resting on the plinths. They reeked of occultism, and even if Hux overlooked that, none of them were pleasing to the eye.

Something still less pleasant was waiting, stood between him and the throne. Where once there would have been the Praetorians in their elegant crimson armour, now there were eight figures in mismatched armour, swathed in black robes. The Knights of Ren, the Supreme Leader’s savage little coven, stood in a loose semicircle before the throne. Once his fellow Jedi Padawans, they were the ones who had joined Ben Solo when he turned upon their master, killing their fellows and torching the temple.

Hux couldn't see any eyes behind their masks and helmets, but he could feel them - or some other sense with which they perceived him. There was an insouciance to the way they stood there. That stance, while it couldn’t be mistaken for being on guard, did have a certain predatory aspect to it. 

And there was something less easily defined; what Hux had come to recognise as the touch of the Dark Side. It boiled off the Knights like the stench of rancid blood, spilled months ago and never cleaned away. Added to that, ever since that confrontation on the _Supremacy_ it induced a certain tightness in Hux’s throat. He wanted nothing more than to be past them.

He was so intent on this that he almost walked into the two blades that barred his path. The two Knights in the centre of their formation had drawn their weapons with such speed that they seemed to just _be there_ all of a sudden, forcing Hux into a dead stop.

To his right, a vibro-blade activated with a crackle. Then the rest followed, red light reflecting off the polished ultrachrome blades and spilling over armour and stone. Gwaelyn Ren, the one woman among the Knights, stepped out of formation to stand beside Hux and scrutinise him. Her helmet's faceplace was a skull of dark metal, partially veiled by black fabric, but the hollow eyes seemed to bore into him. Then another Knight followed – Verix, the arrogant little sadist, whirling his hooked swords in slow, sizzling loops as he left his place at the outside of the group and stalked behind Hux. A croaking chuckle emanated through the grille of his mask.

Outwardly, Hux paid that no heed. He merely scowled at the Knights before he looked past them to the figure on the throne, raising an eyebrow. A hand rose languorously from the black marble, and the Knights extinguished their weapons. “You may approach,” Gwaelyn drawled. Now the blades dropped. Hux tried not to hurry through or let any relief show on his face. 

Which was actually rather easy when he reflected on just who was occupying the throne. It made him feel vaguely nauseous to see Kylo Ren sat there, raised up to loom over Hux and scrutinise him as he approached.

The towering, skeletal form of the old Supreme Leader had fit the seat rather better, and Ren looked altogether less comfortable there. He brooded, hunched over, one hand gripping his lightsaber hilt as the weapon rested on the stone. Hux supposed he could find some encouragement in that, but he knew his old rival’s instability all too well. Not to mention Ren’s willingness to vent it on others.

His appearance was different too. He was heavily bearded but beneath it, he had become even paler than Hux. A gaunt, almost cadaverous aspect had sunken into the flesh. Seen close-to, even his eyes had changed, glimmering yellow under his heavy brow. There was something ravenous about that gaze. Hux had been grateful for every second of Ren’s year-long absence from his life, but whatever had happened to him in that time looked distinctly unhealthy.

And yet there was no mistaking the power that radiated from him now. Even someone like Hux, who neither had nor desired any connection to the Force, could discern that.

He knelt on the cold stone, keeping his eyes lowered. “Supreme Leader. You look… well. Your travels have been rewarding, I take it?”

“They have been fruitful.” The Supreme Leader’s voice rumbled over him. “We ranged far and wide. I have walked on Korriban and Rakata, beheld the Malachor Desolation.”

“You must forgive me, Supreme Leader, but these names mean nothing to me.”

Unsurprisingly, Ren’s expression was derisive. “I expected as much. They were holdfasts of the Sith – I have recovered things of great worth, and our power grows.” He gestured behind Hux, to the Knights who must be watching him.

“But we have broader matters to discuss.” Ren rose from the throne and approached the still-kneeling Hux. “The war – or rather the hunt.” Reluctantly, Hux craned his neck to regard him. “It seems to me that Poe Dameron, the man who flew into the heart of the Starkiller and gambled a fleet to destroy a dreadnought, has become a ghost. As indeed have the entire Resistance.”

“We have been allocating our resources to higher priorities, Supreme Leader.” Hux held Ren’s gaze, doing his best to ignore the Knights at his back. “Our expansion. The Resistance is all but broken, and if we hold every major system then their extinction becomes a matter of inevitability.”

“There are considerations beside strategy,” Ren growled. “The regicide is still out there. I would have my revered predecessor avenged sooner rather than later.”

Hux almost believed he was being sincere for a moment. _But come now Ren, we’re all practiced liars in this palace. Unless you count the Stormtroopers. On which note…_

“Understood,” he said. “We shall redouble our efforts in the matter of the rabble.” His knees were screaming at him now. Ren probably knew that. “I do however have a question of my own.”

“Very well.”

“There have been deployment changes. Sweeping changes, mandated with your seal.”

“I don’t hear your question yet, General.”

Hux just about kept the scowl from his face, lowering his head again. “On what basis, may I ask, are you ordering these alterations?”

Ren’s grip on the saber, still in his hand, tightened as he leaned forward. “Reliability. The divisions I have picked for my own fleet are bloodied to a man. I have no desire to be surrounded by raw recruits - I will accept only proven killers.”

_And no doubt keeping the very best killers closest to you_ , Hux thought.

But Ren had another point to make. “There have been whispers from the training encampments, Armitage. Unreliability among the recruitment cadres, necessitating purges.”

Hux felt the blood drain from his cheeks. “Supreme Leader, this would be the first I’ve heard of it.”

The Supreme Leader walked right up to him then, placing a single finger under Hux’s chin. Reluctantly, Hux allowed his head to be tipped back, gazing into those hungry yellow eyes. “Then I suggest you turn your attention to it and put your house in order. After all, if your underlings are keeping errors from you then they are undermining the project you are so very proud of.”

_The same project you would terminate the second you had a viable alternative, because you fear it’s not fully under your control._

Ren kept his voice monotone, but nonetheless, he was clearly enjoying himself. He let Hux’s head drop back and stalked away, hands behind his back. “I remember you extolling its merits, back when we had a Stormtrooper defect.” The Stormtrooper whose face graced wanted posters all across the Galaxy, the one Hux should have seen dead two years ago. “But that can wait until after we have met with the rest of High Command later.”

Hux kept his expression neutral through all this, and when he thanked the Supreme Leader for this information and requested leave to depart.

He kept the scream of rage bottled down until he was back in his apartments.


	4. On a Quiet World

“I’m never going to tire of views like this,” Rey said softly, trying to keep her eyes on the console in front of her. Next to her, Chewbacca grunted in agreement.

The Millennium Falcon dropped into a dawn-lit sky, and Rey watched as the curvature of the world flattened out while they descended. Below, the pink clouds were pierced by dark mountains, and when the ship dipped below those, green valleys opened up between the long walls of mountains.

Vatel was a quiet, forgotten world. So obscure, in fact, that not even the First Order seemed to be aware of it. It had taken an old navigation map from a derelict Imperial scout vessel to alert the Resistance to the planet’s existence.

“Didn’t think it would be this pretty,” Kaydel Ko Connix piped up behind her. Rey turned to look at the lieutenant, the newest addition to the Falcon’s crew and their comms specialist. Kaydel caught her eye and smiled. Chewie nudged Rey, and she turned back to the vista.

Poe’s X-Wing dropped into view a little way ahead, dancing in the new sunlight as his laughter rang through the radio. “Not every backwater’s Jakku, ladies. For which we should be grateful.”

“No argument here, Commander,” Rey replied. At times like this, she could almost pretend they were just exploring, not carrying out missions. Perhaps she’d come back here one day, when the war was done.

The Falcon and its quintet of fighter escorts followed a river towards a cluster of mountains. They moved over dense forest dotted with red and pink blossom, buffeting the trees as they passed. As they made their way upstream, the river steepened. Now its course was punctuated by rapids and waterfalls. Walls of rock rose up around it and Rey was obliged to fly a little higher. The mountains drew closer to form a great v-shaped valley around them.

Kaydel consulted her datapad. “Looks like your source was right, Poe. Target’s partway up one of those mountains, but we haven’t got stable terrain within a couple clicks.” She leaned forward and clapped her palm on Rey’s shoulder. “I’m afraid you’re hiking today, Captain.”

Rey smiled. She still found the military title a little odd, even after two years in the Resistance. “I can live with that.”

“And there’s your hunting ground,” Poe chipped in.

“Where?”

Kaydel pointed to a crooked peak which rose clear of the flowing ridges. Sure enough, as they drew closer Rey could make out the huge shape of an old shipwreck, looming partway up the mountain.

Chewbacca grunted. There was a plateau ahead which should serve nicely as a landing site.

“You ought to get ready,” Kaydel added.

Rey looked across to Chewie and nodded, before getting up and moving to the main hold.

Finn and Rose were gearing up along with the Scrappers, the squad Poe had formed around Rey and Finn a few months after Crait. They were an irregular crew even by Resistance standards, but all of them were handy in the melee and fighting together had made them a tight, capable force.

Gial, the ship’s resident porg, squawked a greeting as she stepped around him. Rey looked down at him, cocking her head. “Driving everyone mad again are we, rascal?” Gial got the hint and budged into a corner.

Nyzar, a burly Zabrak and ex-gladiator, laughed as he holstered a blaster. “The critter’s never gonna learn, Captain.” LM-976, a bulky combat droid, gave a grating chuckle of his own. The two were old brothers-in-arms, having spent years in the arena together. Their comrades affectionally called them the “oddest couple”.

“He’s not that bad these days,” Finn said, handing Rey her armour. It was a mixture of Resistance flak and pieces appropriated from the fighting pits where they’d found Nyzar and LM. It was light, and remarkably durable. By and large, all the pieces were still intact over a year after she’d acquired them, painted the rich green which the Resistance favoured.

Finn preferred heavier armour, and had built an outfit from defaced Stormtrooper plate as well as the gear he’d claimed on that mission. He’d also taken up a shock-baton as part of his arsenal, and now locked it to his thigh.

She gave him a quizzical look as he pulled on a heavy coat over his suit. “You think we’re going to need all this up there?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what lives up those mountains. Rather not get eaten today.” He holstered his blaster. “Or be taken out by the Galaxy’s last active battle droid.”

“Fair point.” She pulled the armour on while Finn went over the objective with the crew one last time.

They were after a lightsaber, belonging to a Jedi who was believed to have perished on that old ship. It seemed a small thing to travel all this way for, but with the Skywalker saber beyond fixing, Rey was more than willing to roll the dice. Anything to bring her closer to being a true Jedi.

She felt the Falcon touch down as she draped a cloak over herself. The ship did so more heavily than it used to – Rose and Ki’rii had worked hard to add to its armour and arsenal over the last couple of years.

She adjusted the cloak, holstered her pistol and grappling gun, and turned to find Kaydel holding her staff.

“I’m still a bit nervous handling this thing, ever since you added these.” The other woman gestured to the shock-generators worked into either end of the staff. Without a working lightsaber, Rey had settled for upgrading her old weapon.

“You didn’t have to pick it up,” she said, hooking the strap over her shoulder. “Still, thanks Kaydel.” Finn was already off down the ramp, followed by Rose and the rest of their search party.

“Just stay safe out there,” Kaydel replied.

Rey paused on the edge of the ramp, and looked back. “I’ll do my best.” And with that, she strode out.

The mountain air was cold, but between the rising sun and the effort of hiking up the steep trail, they warmed up quickly. The view helped, as everywhere Rey turned there seemed to be another stunning vista. Flying creatures flew slowly, riding thermals. All in all this appeared to be a tranquil world, which made for something of a novelty in today’s Galaxy.

“We’ve been lucky with the season,” Finn commented. “Smooth stone like this in winter, it’d be as bad as the ranges on the Starkiller.”

Rey looked at him curiously. “You never mentioned them sending you up those.”

“Well, they put us through a lot.” He looked at her gravely. “It doesn’t make for happy stories. Especially not when they planned for us to lose cadets on those exercises. All part of the conditioning.” He was quiet after that, jaw clenched until Rose took his free hand. Then he relaxed a little.

Rey kept silent, feeling a faint smile play across her face. Rose was, in her private opinion, the best thing that could’ve happened to Finn. Not least because he’d have been lost on the Crait salt flats without her intervention, but she was also able to coax a cheerfulness out of him which few others could.

And cheerfulness was a valuable resource in its own right, these days. The Resistance had survived and rebuilt themselves, but since the Starkiller they’d had no great victory to stoke the fires. Survival might be its own triumph, as Leia had told Rey, but it didn’t do much for morale. They’d had to build that up along with their material strength - gradually, carefully, in the face of the rampant First Order.

How Leia, Poe and the other commanders had got them this far still mystified and impressed Rey in equal measure. How they’d managed to managed to keep the spark of hope flickering.

If their source was to be believed, however, there was a little bit of hope on that old ship, now clearly visible up ahead. Its two-pronged nose reared up in front of them as they crested a ridge and came to a halt, abruptly finding themselves in its shadow. Another half-hour’s winding hike should get them there.

Rey found herself studying it. There’d been scavengers on Jakku – old, old scavengers – who’d tell stories about delving into Separatist ships, seeking spoils. The CIS had always been spoken of in hushed tones in scavenger circles – the legendary, all-machine army whose derelict vessels were a veritable trove of tech, but also a deadly gauntlet for any explorers who ventured aboard. Because, they claimed, some half-functioning battle droids still stalked the decks, operating off old kill-protocols.

Or so the stories said. Scavengers were hardly immune to exaggeration in the name of a good story. One aged, retired junker had liked to spin a tale of undead, cannibal Stormtroopers on a drifting Star Destroyer.

But for now, she could put the stories aside – though it might be worth detailing a salvage mission here in the future. Here was a relic of the Galaxy’s not-too distant past in front of her. “What type is that?” she asked Rose.

“I believe it’s a Acquisitor-class, a carrier vessel.” She nodded to the looming hulk, where the last few traces of blue paint remained. “A few of those things would carry an army big enough to conquer worlds.”

Finn and the others kept quiet, taking in the sight. Rey stood next to Rose, tilting her head a little as she gazed up. “I wonder what they were fighting for here. What made this world worth spending a ship like that?”

“I’m not sure the ships themselves weren’t the prize,” Rose replied. “Given how out-of-the-way this planet is, it’s likely that one side caught the other’s fleet on the move. This just happened to be the world the fight happened above.”

Rey couldn’t think of a reply, instead gazing up at the wreck and contemplating what it meant. This was what the wars of tyrants did, scar whole worlds which were simply unlucky enough to get caught in the way. Half a century later, and with Kylo Ren and Hux at the helm instead of the near-mythical Dooku and the machine-beast warlord Grievous, it was just as true.

They started walking again, moving across the rock towards the looming wreck.


	5. Scavenging

The ship which now dominated the view ahead had been bulbous once, stuffed with battle droids and war machines just as Rose had said. Now it was skeletal in many places where corrosion had continued what the ship’s last battle had started. They began to find bits of metal plating underfoot, and the remains of spacecraft dotted the mountainside around the ship.

This was why Poe had been reluctant to bring any of their own craft up here. A lot of metal ready to fall on them if it was destabilised, never mind the state of the rock and snow up above. At least the ship itself looked relatively secure, impaled on a large outcrop of stone.

“Which way?” LM grated.

Rose gestured to one of the bigger holes in the hull. “That’ll put us on the main carrier deck. Best odds are there, and it’s pretty central if we need to explore further.”

Finn pulled a grappling gun from his belt. “We’re going up, then.”

Rey went for her own and hooked it to her belt. Taking aim, she found a solid-looking beam. She fired, tested it as the others did the same. Then she pulled another trigger and felt a tug at her midriff as she was pulled upward, swinging into the dark interior. She braced herself for the landing, bending her knees as her feet hit the deck. Not for the first time, Rey wished she’d had one of these devices on Jakku.

The others landed around her – some more assuredly than others – with grunts, a clatter of boots and two heavy clangs in LM’s case. Rey activated the torch on her chestplate. The contents of the old ship were revealed, and she let a low whistle escape from between her lips. The space was full of towering machines. Some were solid and lumpen, troop carriers at a guess, but there were insectile shapes there too – old war droids, towering and skeletal.

“They look vicious enough now,” Cylarei said. The Chiss warrior had drawn her vibro-sword, and was prodding at a Vulture fighter with the blade. Her energy whip was coiled in her free hand. “Hate to see what they were like when they still worked.”

All of them were in varying states of ruin, some merely rusting while others had been dismembered by gunfire or explosions. They were like huge, corroded skeletons in the half-light. And strewn across the deck, many smaller metal corpses.

“We’re in a graveyard of the old Separatists,” Finn remarked as she began walking forward, turning his torch on the higher levels. Rey took another step forward and something cracked under her boot.

She looked down, wished she hadn’t, and swallowed. “Not just Separatists.” There were bones among the wreckage, mingling with armour. Some of it was still white, but mostly it was either worn down to gunmetal and rust, or covered in moss and mould. Clone Troopers.

They all moved a little more hesitantly now, except for Olesin, who was a former bounty hunter and had seen plenty of grisly locales like this before. The Kaleesh stalked across the deck just as he had before, rifle held steady. Not much of his scaly face could be seen under his mask, but Rey suspected his expression was just as impassive as the mask itself.

She couldn’t say the same for herself. There was an oppressive feel to the place which had nothing to do with the damp or the bodies, though. She unslung her staff, reaching out tentatively with her free hand. The Force hung thickly over the ship, and as she opened herself to it, she started to hear noises. Not true noises – echoes, the ghost of sounds which had not been heard here for half a century. Blasters, explosions – and there it was, the snap and thrum of a lightsaber.

Slowly, cautiously, she advanced, following the echoes. The corpses of Clones were more numerous here. She began to notice charred slashes on armour, until she reached one body which was intact – except for where the head had been struck off.

Someone gulped behind her, and she turned to see Finn and Rose eyeing the dead trooper uneasily. The pressure in the Force was stronger here.

Finn took in a slow breath. “Rey… do you feel that?”

She turned to him, elated. “Yes.” Despite the gloom and the feel of the place, he smiled back. He and Poe had told her about what had happened at Sinta, but to actually see Finn connect to the Force brought a thrill of its own. She wasn’t alone anymore, not fully.

Kuoma, a young Iktotchi and a former novice of the Whills, nodded. “There is turmoil in the Force here, a lingering scar from a terrible deed.” He had a distant look on his face. “A massacre of the Jedi, a triumph of the Dark Side.”

“I believe,” Nyzar broke in, “the monk is trying to say ‘Order 66’.” Kuoma gave him a tolerant look and said nothing.

“Speaking of which,” LM said, coming to a halt and pointing. Now it was Kuoma’s turn to look uncomfortable.

No wonder why. The skeleton of a large Itkotchi lay before them, ringed by fallen Clone Troopers. Rey crouched next to it, bowing her head before she looked closer. The armour he had worn in life was rusted, covered in the remnants of brown robes, and the chestplate was holed in several places.

Somehow, it seemed important to her to say something. She stretched out her fingers to touch the armour, inclined her head. “Palpatine paid for what he did to you,” she told the skeleton. “The Jedi live. And I hope you won’t begrudge us this.”

A short distance from the fallen Jedi, there was a glint of metal under a tangle of vines. Rey felt her breath catch momentarily in her chest. She crawled over to it, pulling a knife from her belt to cut away the vines.

Once that was done, and she’d scraped away a fair amount of moss, a lightsaber hilt was revealed. It was bulky and utilitarian, sparsely decorated. But when she pressed the power stud, a rich indigo blade snapped into life, bathing them in light.

Grinning, she turned around to find her companions smiling too.

“Now that’s a Jedi,” Finn beamed. He turned away a little, putting a hand to his radio. “Poe, we’ve got our prize.”

Kaydel busied herself with the scanning consoles, making sure that Rey’s party were still all transmitting as they headed up the mountain pass and onto the old ship.

She had a couple of the Scrappers with her, along with R2-D2. Ki'rii, a young Pantoran who served as the team’s resident techie along with Rose, had remained aboard with her. Tannel the Bothan had headed out with Chewie to patrol the perimeter, talking idly with a couple of Black Squadron as they did their rounds.

Kaydel gave the scanner another once-over and radioed Poe. “All’s still clear, Commander. Though I wish you’d let us head up there and scan the hulk.”

“I’d rather not risk anything with an old lump of metal like that,” Poe told her. “Especially on that terrain.”

“I know, but…”

He interrupted. “You can just tell me you’re fretting about her, you know?” Ki’rii caught that. Kaydel studiously avoided her gaze, until the Pantoran woman made some vague noises about checking up on Chewie and Tannel.

Kaydel raised a hand and gave a slight wave as Ki’rii left, continuing to talk to Poe. “Well they _are_ going aboard an old warship.” Gial waddled up to her, making inquisitive noises. “Potentially unstable, like you were implying.”

Artoo’s head panned around to her. There was something oddly judgemental about it, as far as Kaydel could read any emotion in an astromech.

“The other kind of fretting, kid.”

Artoo turned back to his work as Kaydel scowled at the console. “You'd better be using a private channel for this, Poe.”

“Course.” The Porg spread his wings and sprang up onto her shoulder. She raised an eyebrow at the little creature, but he plainly wasn’t going anywhere. So there he stayed, balancing awkwardly as Kaydel went about her work and Poe continued. “Sorry Connix, did you have an audience?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes.” She made a point of not replying to Poe any further until she’d gone over the upper-atmosphere readings again. His older-brother act was endearing to a point, but she had a limit.

Finn’s report came in, prompting a few whoops from the pilots. Kaydel felt a little skip of happiness in her chest.

Now she deigned to answer Poe. “OK Commander, that gives us about fifty minutes ‘til they get back. So please,” she threw her hands up, “if you’re so keen to talk about it, feel free to tell me what I’m doing wrong with this girl.”

Rey had come to her a week or two after Crait, at Poe’s request. Kaydel had been adrift, still wracked with guilt over her part in the mutiny against Holdo and the disaster it had caused. Rey had come to talk with her and listen to her, at least in theory.

In practice, it had been something far more… intimate. Rey had coaxed Kaydel into opening up her mind to her, using the Force to experience all Kaydel’s emotional turmoil, and then sharing her own. For Kaydel it had been the closure she desperately needed, banishing her feelings of loneliness and confusion, and it seemed that it had given Rey something similar.

Beyond that, when Kaydel had opened her eyes and found her forehead against Rey’s, she’d realised just how beautiful the other woman was. And as far as she could tell, and Poe agreed, Rey harboured some feelings for her too.

But that was where she hit a wall. Whatever had truly happened in Rey’s dealings with Kylo Ren, it had left her with some lingering fear of opening up. Over the first week after their “bridging”, Rey had rowed back. That had begun a peculiar dance, as Rey would begin to approach Kaydel again – they’d huddle up by a campfire, or share a flask of caff during a nightshift on the Falcon – only to catch herself and pull away.

There had been interludes, back in the early days. Rey would disappear off on a mission for weeks, even months on occasion. Every time, Kaydel would imagine her coming back with someone and their strange little dance never resuming. She’d anticipate feeling both heartbroken and relieved, because after all, she was just the girl from Mission Control whom Rey had done a favour once.

Yet this hypothetical suitor never materialised. Instead, the hesitant cycle which drove Kaydel mad, but which she was never brave enough to break, resumed each time.

Recently it had even intensified, now she was part of the Falcon’s crew. She’d guide them through deployments, try and have gear or food ready for Rey when she needed them. Just months ago, after a difficult mission at the very edge of the Galaxy, Rey had sat down with Kaydel and confessed her fears and sorrows over being abandoned as a child. Wrenching as the tale was, Kaydel had found herself just as moved by the idea that Rey would trust her with that revelation.

And yet she didn’t quite dare to start hoping. “You’re sure this isn’t a Jedi Code thing, Poe?”

Having spent years badgering Leia for stories about the Jedi, she knew that the old Jedi Order had been opposed to “attachment”. It didn’t seem that Luke had subscribed to the notion, but maybe after the whole thing with Ren, Rey thought it was sensible. Even if that theory didn’t seem to ring true, when Kaydel thought about it.

Poe snorted. “I don’t think it’s any code that’s making her so hesitant. Jakku’s not exactly a place that teaches romance. So more likely, Rey’s just behind in learning. Just keep not being a manipulative mass-murderer and she’ll-”

“Hold up.” She’d been about to say she thought there was more to the Rey problem than that. But out of the corner of her eye, she’d seen something. A flicker on one of the atmospheric scans. “We’ve got a sensor-ghost.”

Poe immediately switched to serious mode. She could practically hear him sit up. “One-off?”

“I don’t-”

Artoo bleeped with consternation.

She saw the flicker again, and gulped. “No, it’s there again.” And again, and now she started to see a trajectory on the holo-map. Fear gripped her, and she opened the channel to Rey’s party. “Rey, there’s a craft heading for your position.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a full glimpse of what Rey did for Kaydel, please see Of Crait, Conscience and Consequence.


	6. Hunters

Rey froze, the others halting around her. For a few seconds, none of them made any sound, but Olesin grunted, head cocked to one side. Rey saw his reptilian eyes widen and he bellowed “take cover!”

The Scrappers scattered, diving behind tanks as the missile slammed into the deck. The metal shuddered underfoot and a tank came apart, spilling its flaming metal innards.

Rey took a deep breath, only for Rose to grab her by the arm.

“Rey!” She dragged her away, because she’d seen what Rey hadn’t. That her shelter was an ammunition crate, and that the flames from the tank had reached it.

The munitions cooked off behind them. Rose had pulled them clear of the blast, but the satchel was torn out of Rey’s grasp and went sliding across the deck.

“Kriff,” Rey breathed as they took cover behind a bulky loader droid. She peeked out, feeling a rush of relief when she spotted the others alive and well. “Anyone see it?” she called.

“Yeah,” Cylarei replied, moving over to them. She’d unfurled the energy whip she wielded with her sword, and was rolling her shoulders in anticipation. “Gunship. Don’t know the make, but it’s Vesprid.”

“The Cull-Clade? Kriff,” she hissed. The Vespril Cull-Clade were a particularly vicious pack of bounty hunters, employed by the First Order.

“I thought we lost them in the Rust Shoals,” Rose said, her eyes trying to follow the sound of the gunship. All of them looked to the ceiling as it swept up. LM’s eyes cycled to a fierce, molten orange.

Rey had unslung her staff even before the clangs rang out. Armoured feet, at least a dozen pairs. “Apparently not.” Finn’s shock-baton crackled to life, followed by the Scrappers’ vibro-blades.

She felt something in the Force, like the flash of lightning preceding thunder.

“Get further in!” she shouted – and ran. The gunship dipped back down and opened up again, laser fire raking the hangar.

Nyzar growled. “We’re being herded.” They were hemmed in, prey for the hunters above them. And then they came, whirring down from above on jetpacks, clad in armour the colour of yellowed bone. The insectile warriors of the Cull-Clade – twenty of them, brandishing blasters and vicious barbed blades which flickered with sickly green light.

In answer, Rey activated the shock-coils on her staff, dropping into a combat stance. The enemy chittered through their helmet grilles. Both sides tensed, muscles coiled and hands tightening on their weapons. Then the Cull-Clade leapt into range, and fighting erupted with a clash of blades.

Poe was already in the air, accelerating over the rock with Jess on his starboard side, half a kilometre off.

“I’ve got eyes on it… kriff, it’s a heavy one,” she said.

BB-8 bleeped his agreement.

Poe didn’t bother replying to that. He could see the gunship on his scopes. “Jess, I want you to cut around the ship. Don’t let him see you.”

“Copy. And you?”

“I’m gonna take the heat off our guys and set you up.” In any case, an X-Wing was harder to miss than an A-Wing. So Jess peeled away. He streaked on.

A T-85 X-Wing had impressive speed even before modifications like the ones Poe and Rey had made to Black One. Now, it was nothing short of astonishing. He climbed, hugging the mountain. Laser-fire peppered the hull of the old starship, strobing across the wreckage. He found his target quickly, already dropping down to fire into the open side of the wreck again.

BB-8 burbled and fretted.

“He’s trying to pin them in place,” Poe said. “Let’s return the favour.”

He opened up with his cannons, feeling a fierce satisfaction as orange gashes flared on the gunship’s hull. The bulky craft swung around, but he’d already tipped into a roll. The answering fan of laser-fire cut the air well above him, and here came Jess’ A-Wing, accompanied by her blood-curdling war cry in his ears.

She’d come over the wreck, diving before she loosed torpedoes and pulled up. Textbook flying. Her salvo took the gunship square in its armoured back, punched deep into the plating and detonated. Chunks of hull spiralled away. Ammunition cooked off in a cluster of explosions. What remained of the gunship simply dropped out of the sky.

Poe whooped. “Beautiful, Jess! BB-8, you getting anything from our guys on the ship?”

BB-8 reported a negative.

“Damn. Kaydel, are our people at the Falcon good to move out? We might have more hunters around you.”

He could almost hear the shake of the head which accompanied Kaydel’s words. “We’ve got a bigger worry. Look at your scanners.”

“What-”

“Bioscan, Poe!”

He had the vague thought that he should chastise her for failing to address him by rank, but he heard the urgency in her voice. He focused on the bioscan read. 

“Ah. Kaydel, you guys’d better come here.”

“We’re in the air now.”

“Good.” He tried to sound more relaxed than he felt. But right now, he felt horribly helpless.

Because there was something in the upper levels of that ship, heading for Rey’s party. Something very large indeed, and Poe was willing to bet that it wasn’t friendly.

Rey took a Vesprid down, slamming her staff into the side of its head with a satisfying _crack_ of armour. Then the next, jabbing it and leaving it open to a swing of Nyzar’s axe. A helmeted head flew clear of hunched shoulders. Around her the Scrappers held of the attack and fought back. For all their disparate origins and fighting styles, their time together had forged them into a deadly team.

But they were still outnumbered, pinned against the transports. Another of the Cull-Clade – a big one - came at her with a two-handed sword. Rey beat off its first couple of attacks before their weapons locked, her enemy using its greater height and mass to press her. She groaned, feeling the strain on her arms.

A blaster bolt took the killer in the chest, hurling it away. Rey glanced behind her to see Rose, pistol raised. But before she even had a moment to thank her, there was another Vesprid.

She wasn’t sure just how many had come from that gunship, but they swarmed the Scrappers. Worse, their jetpacks allowed them to vault over them, forcing Rose and Cylarei to hang back, firing up.

Finn fought his way to her, his baton crackling fiercely, and side by side they fended off the enemy. They knew each other’s fighting styles well by now, and more than once Finn caught a blow aimed at her or her staff found an opening he’d made.

Cylarei caught a Vesprid with her energy whip, bringing it to the deck with a thud. LM pounced immediately, caving in its chest with his maul.

Another Vesprid slammed down behind Rey. She turned and caught its sword-swing, but it drove its elbow hard into her chest. She went staggering back, losing the staff. The hunter lunged in, and she flung her hand out – but not to intercept the attack. Instead she lashed out with the Force, throwing her assailant back and impaling it on a metal spar protruding from the ceiling. The Vesprid twitched momentarily before it went limp.

Rey rolled over and called the staff back into her hand as an explosion sounded somewhere outside the ship. The remaining Vesprids had drawn back, and they visibly flinched at the noise.

“Sounds like you’re short of a ride home,” Finn growled. Rey regained her feet and scanned the deck behind the enemy, raising a hand to her earpiece. Where was the damn satchel?

The lead Vesprid tilted its head, hissing and clicking its words so as to be almost unintelligible. “You have your ships.” It gestured at them with its double-bladed sword. “When you’re dead, we will-”

Something struck the ceiling above their heads. The hunter tailed off, looking upwards as a groan rang through the metal. Rey did the same, before a clatter sounded above them too. Everyone tensed, hands tightening on weapons.

And suddenly something massive and hideous plunged down through the ceiling. It blotted out the light, setting upon the Vesprids with an ear-rending shriek. Hooked claws lanced through armour, dragging the victims into a clacking mass of black mandibles.

The Vesprid leader slashed at the beast with its dual blades. It barely scratched the carapace. The monster screeched again and a massive black blade burst from the bounty hunter’s back. Something flicked, hauling it away into the dark.

Rose reeled, clapping a hand to her mouth. Rey too felt a little queasy, and it took real effort not to turn and flee. Instead they all bunched up into a defensive posture, weapons brandished.

“Hell is that thing?” Olesin asked. The monster had grabbed the final Vesprid, cramming the erstwhile hunter into its maw.

“Skoryza,” Nyzar breathed, making an ugly curse of the word.

“So you’ve taken one down, right big guy?” Cylarei asked. 

The Skoryza emerged into the light, seven metres of segmented chitin armour. It reminded Rey of the arachnids on Jakku, scaled up to an absurd degree. Its front limbs ended in massive pincers, dripping with yellow ichor from the Vesprid. The same liquid dribbled down the mandibles. Its tail reared up, and Rey shivered as she saw the wicked blade which sprouted from it. The creature was looking at them now with clustered black eyes. Its rattling, slavering breath was horribly, unmistakably hungry. 

LM replied for Nyzar. “Once. A team effort. They brought one of these things into the arena, sicced twenty fighters on it.”

“How many made it out?”

LM hefted his mace. “Us two.”

Cylarei and Rose gulped in unison.

“Then we fall back,” Finn said. “Everyone go slowly, keep it tight.”

Rey heard him, but she was looking past the beast, at a space under one of the old tanks. There was a gleam of metal in the dark - one of the buckles on her satchel. She might just be able to reach it.

But a movement of the Skoryza brought her back to that hideous, slabbed visage. The black compound eyes were fixed on her, gleaming with predatory intelligence. It breathed in and out with a low _ruk-ruk-ruk-ruk_. Its armoured body was coiling.

Finn saw the look on her face. “Rey-”

Whatever he was going to say next was lost in the cacophony. The Skoryza opened its mouth and a grinding screech rang out, so loud that the Rey felt it in her ribcage. It lunged for them - lunged for Rey. 

She hurled herself sideways as the claws came down on the deck, cutting deep into the metal.

The Scrappers scattered, firing up at it before scrambling back as its claws lashed at them. It wheeled again to target Rey. She ducked the swings and jabbed at its face with her staff, trying to buy time for the others.

And she needed the saber. It was so close, it was just over there...

More shots smacked into the chitin plates, but made little impact. She was rapidly coming to understand how something like this could kill eighteen veteran gladiators.

The Skoryza loomed up, arching its bladed tail. It hissed at the Scrappers as they fired again, and swiped at those who came close, but its attention remained overwhelmingly on her.

She’d come round to the side, closer to where her satchel lay but level with the beast. The Falcon came rumbling in at the far end of the deck, its retros visible in the gloom. Two hundred metres.

If they all ran, most of them might make it. Most of them. Rose met her eyes, clearly making the same calculations.

On her other side was what must have once been a group of lift shafts, plummeting into the dark. 

This really wasn’t a good idea, she realised. Then again, there didn’t seem to be any good options right now.

Rey darted back behind a slumped Vulture Droid. Shouldering her staff, she broke into a sprint, followed an instant later by the Skoryza. A pincer snapped over her head as she threw herself forward, sliding along the wet metal and under the tank. She thudded into the bag, grabbed it and rolled further under the wreck, breathing a sigh of relief.

That euphoria lasted exactly a second before the sound of rending metal pierced her ears. The grinding scream followed. The Skoryza was ripping into the machine in its haste to get at Rey.

The tank shifted above her, and Rey frantically kicked and clawed her way out the other side. She came to her feet again and ran. A shadow moved over her, there was a crash, and then a furious howl as the creature realised its prey was getting away.

She looked back, saw the many legs working away, the black fire in its eyes. It was gaining.

She couldn’t duck behind another vehicle to lose it, or loop around and outrun it. The only option, she realised, was the cluster of lift shafts. One of those became her target.

The scream, when it came, was close enough to buffet her hair and cloak. With a grunt of effort Rey forced herself to run faster still. As the other claw reached for her she leapt, cloak streaming behind her as she flew over the edge - and dropped into the shaft.


	7. Predator and Prey

Kaydel raced into the hold as the Scrappers piled aboard. She took a quick head count, but at a glance she knew who was missing.

She grabbed Finn. “Where’s Rey?”

He was still breathing hard from the escape. “She went after the-”

She put her nose centimetres away from his, balling her fists at her sides. “ _Where?_ ” She didn’t intimidate him – of course she didn’t, she was most of a head shorter than him – but she didn’t like the worried expression on his face.

Kaydel could see the conflict in him; Finn could never disguise that, he was too honest and open. The need to get his squad to safety had brought him aboard, but that imperative warred with his duty to his friend. And now, that friend was…

“Still on the wreck,” Olesin growled from behind Finn. “She went for the shafts, she’ll be going down.” Trying to get away from that monster.

Kaydel goggled at him for a second, feeling profoundly helpless, before inspiration struck. She pelted back to the scanning console.

“R2, still scanning?”

The old astromech warbled.

“Try for lifeforms again.” Her fingers skittered over the console, intensifying, magnifying. Her heart still hammered, but now she had some purpose again. Now she could act. “Chewie, follow the signature when R2 finds her.”

Finn was already moving, his vigour instantly restored just like Kaydel. “I’ll be on the ramp!”

Poe had heard Kaydel over the radio. “Kaydel, the ship is still unstable-”

“That thing is trying to eat Rey,” she retorted. “We’re taking the risk.”

As she fell, Rey fired upward with the grappling gun, taking hold of it with both hands. It caught a spar and held, halting her fall - but it wrenched her shoulders and the wild swing smacked her hard into a metal strut. Even with her helmet on, it dizzied her. She scrabbled, found purchase and slumped with her back to the steel, retracting the grappler.

Tentatively, painfully she began to clamber down. She’d have bruised ribs come tomorrow - assuming she got out of here at all.

“Rey,” came Kaydel’s voice in her ear. She gave a sigh of relief - at least the impact hadn’t done anything to the radio. “Rey, come in.”

“Here,” she whispered. She heard the gruesome rattle of the monster’s breath somewhere above her. Below, when she felt strong enough to take a look, the shaft was lost in shadow.

Perhaps it thought she was dead, lost in the fall. Rey shook her head, trying not to speculate. She just had to keep climbing silently, and listen to Kaydel’s voice.

“I can see a way for us to get you out. A way down from where you are now, there’s another hangar. You’ll need to take some corridors, but I’ll guide you. Open lift bay, four levels down.”

“Understood. Kaydel, do you see it on the scanners?” She was keeping quiet, but she’d become horribly aware of how much she was sweating now. And as the rattling gave way to an ugly sucking noise, it occurred to her that an apex predator like this must have a very keen sense of smell.

The Skoryza surged over the lip, descending into the shaft.

Rey hissed a curse, locking her boots and knees to a pillar to slide down, air whipping past her. It was quick, but even though she squeezed tight to slow herself, the impact jarred her knees. Her hands stung - the speed of the descent had taken skin off her palms.

The beast came after her swiftly, twisting around a column as it went. It regarded Rey again with those ravenous eyes, mandibles clacking.

With all that armour, the thing must weigh at least a couple of tons. But its claws stabbed deep into the walls of the shaft to hold it in place, and it moved with an agility and swiftness which seemed wrong for a creature of its size. A skittering, hammering rhythm which brought it ever closer.

It lunged down at her, a pincer closing on the pillar where she’d just been with a crack and squeal of metal. Rey was already in the air, leaping for a beam further own and landing in a crouch.

She got her bearings again. She was down three levels now. There was the open bay – actually, make that half-open. A narrow one, four metres away and ten down.

If she missed that, she had who knew how far to fall.

There was a beam in between her and the bay. She tried to gauge the distance, but the Skoryza was still coming. She jumped, grasping for the beam - and barely caught it. Her hands, slick with blood and sweat, slipped on the metal, almost costing her a hold.

Rey blinked the stinging sweat out of her eyes, tightened her grip on the bar and began to swing herself forward, ignoring the protesting muscles in her core. Once, twice…

And then the stinger came stabbing down at her. With a yell she hurled herself into the air, the bladed tail cutting clean through the beam.

No time to use the Force and cushion the impact. She thudded into the ledge, driving the air from her lungs, clawing for purchase before she found something and hauled herself up into the door's shadow. "Something" turned out to be a sort of heavy battle droid.

There was no time to think about that, however. The Skoryza leapt after her, pincers rending the half-open bay door. It tried to come after her, but the confines of the corridor were too pinched for its armoured bulk. It hissed at her, before withdrawing and continuing downward.

She’d liked to have believed it was giving up, but she’d seen the malevolent look in its eyes and knew better. She fled, headlong into the dark.

The little dot that showed Rey’s progress was faint; the Falcon’s array had a lot of metal to scan through. Kaydel watched it, her rapid heartbeat horribly apparent in her throat. Even the monster still chasing Rey barely registered, its huge bulk countered by the how deep into the structure it had ventured.

It would know the structure. This was an apex predator, hunting in its territory. Kaydel did her best to banish the thought, focusing on the task at hand.

“What do you propose?” Nyzar asked her. “Lieutenant, you setting us on it with the heavies?”

Kaydel shook her head. “Only things in the armoury that’ll hurt a Skoryza are the ship’s cannons, or bombs.” A non-starter when, as Poe had said, the ship’s structure wasn’t stable to begin with. “We reach the bay, we grab Rey, we get out of here.”

“If it don’t eat the captain first.”

She glared at him, hoping Rey hadn’t caught that over the radio. “We’re getting her out.” She refused to acknowledge how big an _if_ that was.

Rey’s flight had brought her into an engineering chamber. There was hardly any light, but as far as she could tell, it had been pretty chaotic in here even before the old ship crashed to earth. Everything stank of old oil, which pooled here and there, reflecting what little light there was.

She moved quietly, killing the torch and pulling on her night goggles. But that just meant that every pile of broken machinery loomed menacingly around her in the green murk. Anything that looked jagged put her on edge. 

She whispered into her radio. “Kaydel, any sign of it?”

Kaydel matched her volume, to her relief. “I’m barely reading your signal. There’s a lot of mess in that hold.”

Rey wasn’t about to dispute that. She reached a long gantry and began to inch across it. The Separatists, it seemed, hadn’t been any more keen on safety rails than the Empire or First Order.

“How far off am I?” 

“Hundred metres. You hang a left, there’s another hangar.”

Rey stared hard. There was just a little patch of light at the far end of the hangar. “I see it.”

“Great. Chewie’s gonna bring the Fal-” She broke off, with a sharp intake of breath.

Rey froze, Kaydel’s rapid breathing filling her ears. “Kaydel?”

“It’s in there with you. I think - kriff, _Rey it’s under you!_ ”

Rey broke again into a run as the Skoryza sprang up at her from below. Its pincers closed on the gantry and ripped it from its moorings. She managed a clumsy jump as the structure was yanked from under her feet, rolling as she hit the deck on the far side. Behind her the beast’s scream echoed out of the pit. She didn’t look back, but she heard it scuttling up and then its claws hammering on the metal.

The Force offered her speed beyond what her muscles could summon up, and she threw herself into the current. She ducked around broken fighters and tanks, but it was still horribly close. The rumble of the Falcon’s engines sounded ahead.

She leapt clean through the hole in a tank, just ahead of a pincer as it clamped down. But when she glanced back she saw that the Skoryza had simply clambered up onto the wall to get around the wreck, barely losing any speed.

She urged her legs into an even faster run. Nearly slipped in oil. Swerved around the corner into the hangar, the Falcon just twenty metres away now but the Skoryza right behind her. 

With the Force, she pulled the same trick as her pursuer. She leapt, reorienting herself to treat the wall as the floor, racing along the metal to clear a tangle of wreckage. Threw herself forward. Had she lacked the command of the Force she had now, she’d be dead already.

Finn and Kaydel were on the ramp, Finn already aiming with his blaster. “Keep coming, Rey!” He fired a burst of shots, but the beast hardly even flinched.

Rey forced a shout from her tortured lungs, into her radio. “Pull away!”

The Falcon hadn’t even touched down, and the gap between it and the deck slowly widened as she ran. She pulled the grappling gun again, drawing level with an old gunship before throwing herself sideways. She flew through the gap, rolling on the other side and resuming her spring.

For a second the Skoryza ploughed on, before halting itself with another enraged screech. Rey took aim and fired, hooking a support strut on the Falcon. Then, as the beast shunted the craft aside, she pulled the trigger and was yanked off her feet, up to the Falcon.

She stumbled upon landing, but Finn caught her by the wrist and hung on firmly. Rey grasped her friend’s arm and hauled herself up. The Skoryza screeched once more, but the Falcon was already lifting away from the wreck.

“You good?” Finn asked her.

She nodded, staggering up the ramp. “Thank you, Finn.”

Once inside the hold, Finn saw the blood she’d left on his sleeve –“Kriff, Rey” – and, once he was sure she wasn’t more badly hurt, went to find her a medpac. Rey let herself sag forward, hands on her knees. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving her shaky and nauseous. Gathering herself, she raised her head and found herself opposite Kaydel’s midriff.

She straightened up quickly, flashing her an awkward smile. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Kaydel returned the smile, and held out a bottle of water and a little sachet of glucose.

Rey couldn’t manage more words than that just yet. She slumped back against the wall, hoping her smile showed enough gratitude. The sugary liquid went down in one gulp, followed by a swig of water. She pulled her helmet off and shook out her sweat-sodden hair. “Cheers.”

“Any time.” The hatch closed behind them. Kaydel was still eyeing Rey. “I’m beginning to wonder,” she said, “if you’re actually just mad, Rey. Still,” her face lost its sardonic look. “I’m glad you made it back in one piece.”

Rey felt colour rise in her cheeks a little and dropped her gaze. “Appreciate it. But… argh, I’ve got a scolding from Poe coming, haven’t I?” 

Kaydel spread her hands and raised her shoulders in a gesture which said _well, you did take a nakedly insane risk_. Rey, with no argument to the contrary, managed a rueful nod.

“So, Vatel.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Not as appealing as it first looked.”

“True enough,” Kaydel replied, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving her a concerned look. “Wonder what’s down there that can keep a monster like that one fed.”

They made their way through the hold, to a muted cheer from the Scrappers. R2 greeted her too, though not without a reproachful tone. There’d be more of that in a moment, she was sure.

She stowed her staff in its usual place, tucked just far enough into a corner where no one would trip on it, but close enough that she could grab it easily on her way from the cockpit to the ramp.

Her earpiece crackled as she sank into the copilot’s seat. Poe’s voice was about as stern as she had expected. “That,” he pronounced, “was too close.”

“I know, Commander,” she said.

“And?”

She lowered her head. “I endangered our people for an object, it was rash and stupid-” Chewbacca made an equivocating sort of noise, but she ignored him “-and I should’ve known better. I’m sorry.”

She heard Poe sigh gently. “Apology accepted, Captain. But remember, it could’ve gone a lot worse.”

The Falcon and its escorts rose in earnest, leaving the surface behind as they arced upwards.

“Those hunters kept hidden until they were almost on top of us,” Poe ruminated.

Rey nodded. “We’ll get a signal off to nearby fleets and let them know.”

“On it now,” Kaydel said, typing up a message on her data-pad. Then she leaned forward, over Rey’s shoulder. “You did retrieve it, right?”

Rey smiled, leaned forward to dig the saber out of her bag and held it up “Yes we did. But it wouldn’t have got us far if you hadn’t spotted the Vesprid ship back there.” Kaydel’s eyes lit up at that, but she said nothing, going back to her work.

The stars were beginning to show through the darkening blue. Finn made his way into the cockpit, passing Rey a couple of bacta patches for her hands. “A risky job, but it paid off.”

“Roger that, Captain,” Poe chimed in. “Now let’s get home.”


	8. Refuge

Agnoa, far out in the Outer Rim, was one of the few worlds which the Resistance deemed safe enough to raise a permanent base. They’d set it up in a region near the equator, where savannah stretched out towards the ocean. The great plains filled the view as the Falcon and its escorts descended, finally meeting a tranquil, turquoise sea.

As far as Rey was concerned, this was by some way best base the Resistance had adopted so far. It was much better to come back to than the icy and rocky Rujkavel where she’d spent much of her first year of the war, or the Ibanus Asteroid Belt. On Agnoa, going outdoors was both feasible and pleasant; the heat alleviated by the coastal air where Jakku’s had been constantly scorching.

The base sat close to the white sands, nestled among a range of hills and spilling onto the savannah. It also lay in the shadow of the local Resistance fleet, which clustered around a Starhawk-class Battleship. Saved from Corellia’s shipyards by escaping troops before the First Order took the world, it had been dubbed the _Solo_ and gifted to the Resistance.

It was a sight which Rey always welcomed. When she first joined the Resistance, all they’d had were a cruiser and a handful of escorts – and by the time she rescued the survivors of Crait, all of those had been lost. Now, after much hard work and with the help of several shipyards in the Outer Rim, they had a reasonable flotilla. Nothing to rival the New Republic Navy, but they could take on a small First Order fleet if they were smart about it.

The fleet carefully monitored all incoming craft, ever wary of attack or infiltration. The Millennium Falcon was hard to mistake for anything else, but even so, there were clearance codes to submit so they could descend to the surface.

Most of the base proper was underground, in old bunkers – a holdover from the Empire rather than the Rebellion, this time. But there were plenty of tents and prefabricated structures spread across a wide area, and more than a few airfields in among the gun emplacements dotting the ground. There were hundreds of Resistance fighters out there, dozens of them waving up at the incoming craft. That too was cheering to Rey.

A hangar had been set aside for Poe’s task force, and as the Falcon and Black Squadron swept in, they found a swarm of engineers ready for them, along with Commander Larma D'Acy and a handful of admin staff.

“Go on ahead,” Rey told the Scrappers. “Get some food before the canteen fills up. We’ll find you shortly.” With a general murmur, her squad departed, the crowd making way for them. D’Acy’s words wouldn’t be much use to them.

“Commander D'Acy.” Poe snapped off a brisk salute, prompting a small smile from D’Acy. Behind him, Rey and the others came to attention, Finn being the quickest. Rey had taken a few months to get used to the idea, but over the last year it had become a reflex.

“Commander Dameron, it’s good to see you and your company again. All alive and well?”

“Yup. And we’re happy to be back, though it was riskier than I’d have liked.”

Rey saw an odd flicker of emotion in D’Acy’s eyes, but the other officer didn’t stray from the subject at hand. “We got your transmission. Some scouts were dispatched, and two Star Destroyers have been observed retreating back to First Order territory.”

Poe nodded, looking relieved. “No offensive, then.”

“Not yet. But we’ve had other reports from the Mid Rim, Core and the Inheritance…”

The latter was what they called the First Order’s heartlands now. Once they’d simply been a part of the Unknowns, but after they’d cracked several databases, they’d become rather well acquainted with those sectors. But if reports were coming from there, that meant…

“Ren?” Rey asked. It got her looks from the others, but she’d been turning the suspicion over and over in her mind during the flight home, and couldn’t keep it bottled down any longer.

D’Acy cleared her throat. “Precisely, Captain. At first we only had rumours and reports from spies within the First Order, but now their own broadcasts have confirmed it. The Supreme Leader has returned to Gorothad, undoubtedly to plan and lead a fresh wave of offensives.”

Rey had been expecting to have her worries confirmed, but to hear it from D’Acy chilled her blood nonetheless. Not just because it presaged a new phase of aggression from the First Order – though she certainly dreaded that – but because it brought her another step closer to facing Kylo Ren once more.

“The lull couldn’t last forever,” Poe said wearily. Then he turned back to Rey. “You suspected. So you think those bounty hunters were acting on his orders?”

Rey nodded, clenching her jaw in an effort to look less nervous. “The First Order took their eye off us when Ren set out on whatever journey took him away from the war. Now, they’ve started chasing the Falcon for the first time in months, and it’s right when Ren’s come back.”

Poe’s frown deepened. “Well, it’s not welcome news, but now we know that we’ve got to be on our toes. And on that note, I’m sure we’ve got a whole lot of briefings to attend.”

Jess, C’ai and the other pilots stayed with their ships, along with Ki’rii. They’d catch up later. The rest headed out into the base.

The other hangars thronged with tech teams, clustering around craft which had either been damaged on recent missions, or freshly salvaged. The Resistance was still growing, and needed machines for its pilots. One of Shriv Suurgav’s missions after Crait had begun a steady campaign to address that scarcity, stealing New Republic assets which the First Order had seized and intended to scrap. It had been profitable – heck, that was where they’d got Poe’s X-Wing.

Near enough every bay looked to be occupied, a testament to how busy the Resistance had been. As well as those salvage missions, the few industrial centres allied to them had been busy producing more ships and weapons. Nothing like the quantity they’d need to actually topple the First Order on their own, but it was much more than they’d hoped before at the start of the war.

Once past the work crews and out of the hangar, the gang were headed into the main base, which was just as full of people and droids. All sorts of species, from all walks of life. Even the uniforms were a hodgepodge. Resistance green mingled with New Republic colours, and those of a dozen planetary defence forces. All of them had been driven to make common cause or face obliteration.

But no matter where they came from or what they were doing, they all noticed Rey.

She tried, as she always did, not to notice the looks, and as always she was unsuccessful. There was no getting around it – she turned heads. People would stop and stare, mouths lolling open and hands stopping just short of pointing. Eyes lingered on her staff as people pictured it crackling into electric-blue life. Where she walked, whispers followed.

Rey, the scavenger who had simply been a minor objective for the First Order at first, was now a face known across the Galaxy, adorning wanted posters the length and breadth of the First Order’s growing empire. She was the Regicide, the murderess of Supreme Leader Snoke. The bounty on her head would buy an entire sector.

And where she was denounced by Kylo Ren and his generals, she was feted by others. Luke Skywalker’s apprentice, a hero of the Crait escape and dozens of missions since that. As the last Jedi, she was held up as a source of hope. That only grew with every mission, every person she rescued and every opponent she defeated.

Where she’d spent the first eighteen years of her life feeling invisible, she now often felt profoundly scrutinised.

Poe saw it, and raised his voice to just below a shout. “Hey people, I know we look good, but this war isn’t a spectator sport. Please, go about your duties.”

“You alright, kid?” he asked Rey quietly, as the crowd dispersed.

She exhaled slowly. “I always forget how many eyes there are, around a base.”

“I get that,” he said gently. “Still, I remember how uncomfortable you were back when we started putting together the Scrappers. You grew into it, Rey. You’ll get used to this too.”

She said nothing, but met his eyes and nodded.

Within a few weeks of Crait, Poe had adopted her as something like a younger sibling, just as he had Finn and Rose. And as their group took on new members and more missions, Rey had found herself surrounded by something she could call a family, for the first time in memory. After confronting the truth about her parents, she’d needed it desperately.

Feeling like she belonged in the wider Resistance was a work in progress, however. For all that she’d become a talisman to them, she’d only served alongside a few of their leaders. Part of that was down to the small actions which the Resistance tended to fight, and Leia’s reluctance to risk losing her. But it still meant that whenever they stopped at a base, she encountered this disconcerting reverence from complete strangers.

Finn’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Are there any bunks for us this time?” That was Finn to the core, always focused on the practical.

“Yes, surprisingly,” D’Acy replied. “Plenty of people have come through the base lately, but not that many are staying, so you’re guaranteed beds for a few days.”

Even so, the base was close to full. A company had departed for rescue and retrieval missions in the Mid Rim, but their billets were already occupied. There seemed to be refugee parties coming in all the time, each carefully vetted at waypoints for First Order spies. Those who could and were willing would serve, the rest would be sent to civilian enclaves, there to wait in relative safety and hope that one day, they could return home.

“Hjelima escapees?” Rey asked, nodding to the new arrivals. They comprised a dozen species, but all shared the forlorn, ashen look of the recently displaced. Given that the First Order had overrun Hjelima just a few weeks before, that seemed most likely.

Rose nodded, then she pointed to a few dozen tents over on the plain. “Looks like we’ve got a whole new division over that way too.”

“Amazes me that recruitment’s been this strong.”

Poe spoke up at that. “Most of them come to us these days, Rey. These last few months, while we were out in the far reaches, the First Order’s been busy.

“The Labour Camps on Lupasa IV, bastards turned a whole continent into an open strip mine. Usquar, they took the human children and levelled the city when they left. Two thousand years of history and culture reduced to dust in a heartbeat, and those that would have inherited it? They'll grow up learning to do the same to some other poor folk.

“Only good news is that people are getting a new type of scared. This time they've got nothing to lose. The Empire, as long as you paid your taxes and stayed in line, they'd leave you alone. First Order? They'll take everything. Turn the galaxy into a factory that just churns out more copies of their goons. People are realising they can't hide anymore.”

Kaydel looked grave. “No standing still and hoping it’ll pass you by. On which note, Commander, you and I will be expected at the morning briefing. I’ll catch you later,” she told Rey. “Say hi to the General for us.”

“Sure.” Rey turned to Finn. “You really ought to come as well. Rose?”

Rose shook her head. “I’ll just grab a caff and get back to the Falcon. Ki’ri is talking about adding shock-flechettes to the top turret…”

Chewie grumbled.

“…and Chewie and I need to be there to make sure she doesn’t make a bad connection and fry the computer or the shower’s heater.”

Without proper supervision, both those eventualities were more likely than Rey would like to admit. She didn’t know the ins and outs of the old ship quite as well as Rose, but she knew that everything about the Falcon was haphazard, right down to the circuitry. They’d stripped out all the obviously faulty and short-lived items a couple of years ago, but there remained several strata of improvised repairs which they hadn’t dared to touch without good cause. Even an engineer as knowledgeable as Ki’rii was in danger of crossing the wrong wires if Chewie wasn’t keeping an eye on things.

Particularly with a perpetual tinkerer like Ki’rii making those changes. Enthusiasm for the job was all well and good, but the Pantoran girl didn’t always appreciate a mechanism’s fragility.

Finn had once asked Chewie if it would be worth stripping out all the chaotic wiring and starting again. Chewie had responded, with a bluntness that only a Wookie could muster, that to do so would be the sacrifice the Falcon’s character. And it would take more than a week in any case.

Rey nodded. “We’ll catch you for dinner, then.”

“Actually,” D’Acy said, “it’s best if you all attend the briefing. Something… substantial has come up in the missive you collected on your last mission, Poe.”

They all glanced at Poe, who shrugged. “We’ll get a runner to tell Ki’rii to hold up. Let’s go see what our delivery at Sinta turned up.”


	9. Mission

Admiral Luce Farrun, one of the few high-ranking escapees from the Republic’s fall, led the briefing. The tall, rake-thin Devaronian was the most senior fleet officer present, and one of the most experienced in the whole Resistance.

He held the attention of the attendees easily – not surprisingly when you considered his history. Farrun had been a lieutenant at Jakku and risen up the ranks as the Republic Navy was formed. He’d spent years campaigning against First Order proxy forces, until his vocal support for the Resistance and an active defensive policy became an “embarrassment” to his superiors.

As a result, that promising career was curtailed and Farrun installed as an instructor at a Fleet academy on Beryst. There he remained until the Hosnian Cataclysm and the First Order’s invasion. The academy had been one of the first targets, and the garrison officers had fallen into panic. All except for Farrun, who had drily declared himself tired of academia anyway before assuming control and whipping the defence fleet into formation.

Beryst had been taken in the end, but thanks to Farrun the majority of the cadets and staff escaped aboard his fleet. He had lost an eye in the fighting, as attested to by the cybernetic replacement he now sported. It cemented his arresting presence, and he ran through the briefing in a clipped, terse manner. The thirty or so officers in the room listened in silence, though Finn saw that Rey’s eyes kept flicking to General Organa, sat behind Farrun.

“The intelligence given to us at Sinta has brought a remarkable development to light, so we have Commander Dameron and Captain Finn to thank for this.” Finn shot Poe a curious look, but his friend held up a hand to forestall him. On his other side, Rose and Rey kept their eyes forward.

Farrun carried on without comment. “We have an authenticated report of something quite unprecedented within the First Order. A Star Destroyer has vanished into the Tion Sector with its entire complement. It was a Venerer-class model named the _Vehement_ , and over the two months since it disappeared, nothing has been heard of it. Certainly nothing has been said openly by our enemies. But behind the veil of secrecy, the First Order is _frantic_.”

Finn sat bolt upright in his seat, feeling suddenly lightheaded. A murmur ran through the room. “How’d this happen?” he asked before he could stop himself.

Farrun’s eyes locked onto him. He briefly scrutinised Finn, before he gave a slight jerk of his chin. Evidently he’d decided that Finn was within his rights to ask. “As of yet, we cannot be sure, but other reports suggest a growing systemic problem within the enemy’s military.” He keyed a few commands into the console in front of him, and the holo of an imposing building appeared.

“Installation Camba, which you’ve all heard about. I bring this up because although its destruction six months ago was attributed to a native rebellion, we’ve since received contradictory reports, for the eyes of the higher echelons only.” Poe leaned forward at that, trying not to look too pleased with himself. Even the other reports had taken some digging out. High-clearance files like these were a hell of a prize. “These, in contrast, detail an internal uprising by Stormtrooper cadets and an abortive purge.”

Poe raised a hand. “Sir, I don’t want to be the one to spoil the mood, but do we think this might all be a ruse on the part of the First Order? The location of the Tion Sector doesn’t suggest an overt trap, but do we really think these Stormtroopers have deserted?”

“They were overwhelmingly new recruits,” D’Acy interjected. “And they were assigned to crush a rebellion on Ublest.”

Farrun, who’d given an approving look at Poe’s words, took over again. “Without anyone to crush it, that revolt raged for a full month and saw five thousand rebel troops escape for the Outer Rim; they’ve subsequently been absorbed into the Resistance.”

Poe nodded. “OK. Even for the First Order, that sounds a bit much.”

He thought he saw Leia smile a little at that. Farrun ploughed on. “Naturally, we have sent assets into the region to locate the lost Destroyer, and a week ago we received a missive.” Installation Camba blinked out and was replaced by the image of a Delphidian male. “This is Galles Cherilan, one of the seekers. He claimed to have located the _Vehement_ and cached that information on data-sticks, but his ship was damaged in a skirmish with TIE Fighters and he crashed on Raxus Prime. We’ve no idea if he’s still alive, and frankly I’m not hopeful. Regardless, we need to retrieve those coordinates before the enemy do.” He turned away from the holo, to look at Poe. “Commander Dameron.”

Poe leaned back a little, but he met Farrun’s eyes readily. “Admiral?”

The Admiral took a step towards him. “You will have operational command on this mission.”

Poe came to his feet and saluted. “Thank you, sir. Will it just be my company?”

“Not with the First Order active in the sector. We’re putting a taskforce together over the next few days. We’ll go over that shortly, but,” he looked around the room, “Captains Rey and Finn, you can go. Actually, I’m sure you could all do with some rest.”

The majority of the attendees trooped out. Poe waited, eyeing Farrun warily.

“You’re still surprised to have been picked,” the admiral said eventually. He looked amused, even if only one of his eyes could show it.

“I didn’t realise I had anyone’s favour but Leia’s, these days.”

Farrun had already switched the holos to a strategic view of the Galaxy, running over recent updates even as he spoke. “For what it’s worth, if we were talking two years ago then I’d have been utterly opposed to letting you anywhere near a division. As it is, Crait was two years ago, and I’ve seen enough since then.”

“I’m surprised, sir.”

“What, because an old officer managed to change his mind?” Farrun barked a quick laugh. “I saw what you managed at the Defence of Hultema.”

That had been one of the few really big battles Poe had taken part in since Crait. In the face of a First Order invasion force, he and his companies had held out in the snowy capital city for a week, buying time for nearby worlds to evacuate or strengthen their own defences.

“A full Stormtrooper legion beaten back, another slowed down for three days until the evacuation was complete, an armoured brigade taken out by an ambush that was mounted on damn swoop-bikes of all things.”

“A lot of that is on my captains,” Poe interjected.

“Captains who were carrying out your strategy. A Jedi on the front line can’t win a battle if she’s the only card we have.” He folded his arms, raising his chain. “No, you are indeed ready for this task, Dameron. I see what Leia sees in you. Just don’t get cocky out there, and keep your eyes on the objective.”

Poe managed to get hold of Finn for a flask of caff a few hours later, up on a balcony overlooking one of the base’s recreational spaces.

“It really says something, that even now,” Finn said between swigs, “Resistance caff beats the First Order brew every time.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Poe replied.

Finn shot him a look. “You’re saying-”

“Yeah kid, this got swiped from a First Order prison.” He held up his flask. “Officers only, mind you.”

Finn sighed. “Of course.” He sat back a little, looking down as Gial leaned affectionately on his shin. “Still, I assume you’re looking to talk more than caff.”

He glanced at Poe, and saw an odd smile on his face. Following his friend’s eyes, he spotted Rey and Kaydel at a table in the far corner, talking quietly. Now he recognised Poe’s slightly proprietary look.

“So your little project’s still coming along?”

BB-8 nudged up against his free leg, demanding attention. Poe chuckled when Finn bent down to fuss over the droid. “You’re still sceptical?”

Finn watched the two women a little longer. He wondered if Poe wasn’t reading too much into it, but there was _something_ there. A kind of twitch or flutter in the air – maybe in the Force – between the two of them. “I just wonder if you really should’ve assigned our Comms officer to the crew on the basis that she and Rey would be cute together.”

“She’s also good at her job, pal. We might’ve not made it off Vatel without her.”

Finn tilted his head a little and made his “fair point” face. “Still not sure I approve of you playing matchmaker, but if it makes Rey happy, that can’t hurt.”

“Exactly.” He clapped a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “And speaking of girlfriends-”

“Now that’s definitely a bit premature.”

“-we ought to find yours, and Chewie.” He got up, beckoning BB-8 to follow. “But on a serious note, what did Leia say to you?”

They made their way down corridors and tunnels. There was bare rock in places, though at least someone had got rid of the creeping roots since their last visit.

“She says I’ve got to meditate and get a proper hold on the Force. Deepen the connection – if I can find time for that.” He felt like Poe was expecting more, and continued, his tone apologetic. “Neither Rey or I really wanted to take up more of her time than we had to, though. Not when she’s so clearly tired.”

Poe’s face mirrored the sadness he felt. “True enough. The General hasn’t been the same since her little spacewalk. Don’t know if she can be again.”

Feeling uncomfortable. Finn changed the subject. “Anything come up in your briefing about the mission?”

“Plenty. They’re giving us a full division. Fleet assets, multiple fighter squadrons.”

“Lots of toys.” Finn felt elated just thinking about it, but then he caught the look on Poe’s face. “So why aren’t you smiling?”

“It’s the first time I’ve had command of a force this size since…”

“D’Qar?” Finn read his face and nodded. “I see. Feeling ready?”

He felt a little apprehension of his own. They’d fought as part of large forces on Hultema and Sejatul, true. But in both of those, they’d embedded themselves among a world’s native forces to resist a First Order attack. To go out into unfriendly space with so many comrades was something new to Finn. But he kept that quiet. Poe didn’t need his doubts, and Finn was willing to trust his friend.

Poe stared moodily into the depths of his flask, before taking another swig. “Hard to say. I’ve had my lessons, but now it’s time to use them.” He was quiet for a few seconds, then he said “I had to reprimand Rey yesterday. Gently, but even if it got us the saber, she broke formation and nearly got herself killed on that wreck.”

Finn looked at him sidelong. “It’s the kind of thing-”

A tired sigh answered him. “I know full well it’s the kind of thing I would’ve done once. Which...” he gestured aimlessly, “makes it all the more important that I still tell her off for it.”

“She’s scarily like you sometimes.”

“The little sister I never had.” Poe thought for a moment, a regretful smile playing across his face. “Actually, that might be for the best. If we’d grown up together, we’d have been tearing each other’s hair out.”


	10. The Grey Path

“The Grey Path is neither aberration nor innovation. It was born of primordial Tythor just as the Jedi Order was in ages past. For centuries it was the only path, until people came to shun it in favour of sole adherence to the Light Side or the Dark. It is as old as our connection to the Force."

Rey's stylus tapped and scratched against the data-pad, while she occasionally glanced up at the glowing figure above its holocron.

She’d dug the device out of an old Sith enclave on Phaseera, two months previously. Since then, when she was fully awake and had the time, she’d get hold of it and start scribbling. It was one of a number which she had found, or which other Resistance operatives had located and brought to her.

“The argument that the Path is dangerous is less easily answered. Indeed, to assert outright that it is not perilous would be to lie. The Dark Side offers power, quickly and easily but at the most terrible cost if the wielder succumbs to its lure. No one is immune. To be a Grey Jedi, and especially to fight as one, is to walk a tightrope between the two sides.

“Yet the Force is not divided entirely. The Dark, the Bogan as our forerunners called it, exists to balance the Ashlan, the Light. It is the more dangerous source to draw on, but it ought not to be ignored. And by knowing the Dark, we can learn to recognise its lure and establish limits. Sound the depths, determine tolerances. To shun the Dark entirely is to replace many small tests with a single greater one.

“The Force reflects the soul of the Galaxy as one, indivisible. If we neglect the balance in the name of purity, we render ourselves remote. So when a young learner struggles with the allure of the Dark, oftentimes a Master will have no true solution to offer. And sensing an opportunity, another voice comes to the errant pupil, promising to understand him where his teachers cannot or will not. For so have apprentices, knights and even masters been lost to the Dark through history.”

The Jedi who “inhabited” the holocron was a Nautolan woman in light armour and simple robes, adorned only with the insignia of the legendary Army of Light. Perhaps that was ironic, given that she was extolling the virtues of the Grey Jedi.

Or perhaps not - again and again in her studies, Rey found that the Grey Jedi seemed to understand the Dark Side and its adherents keenly, where their “pure” counterparts often did not.

And Luke Skywalker himself had supplied the contrast. At the height of their power and their commitment to the light above all, the Jedi had fallen prey to their old enemy and been undone. It seemed to Rey that there was a lesson in that.

The long-dead Jedi spoke on, and Rey kept scribbling. This was a lot of history to take in for a girl who, just two years ago, hadn’t known for certain that the Jedi existed. Never mind trying to understand and adopt a philosophy when previously, all she’d known was to try and get by without outright wronging anyone else.

But it was worth the struggle. What she learned gave her a framework for the world she found herself in and the structure within which she was meant to fit. And she needed that. It was the same need that had taken her to Ach-To.

And the matter of Grey Jedi provided a reference for her own experiences with the Force, where the old texts had felt reproachful. The very first time she connected to it, the darkness had been there. Maybe even before that, but when she’d bested Ren in that forest, she’d felt the pull of it, the fierce burn it ignited in her heart. And again in the throne room.

She feared surrendering to it, but she understood the power and speed it leant her. The girl she’d been on Jakku would have been killed so many times by now, but the woman she was now had come through. Not without a few scars, to be sure. But she was alive, and part of that was down to wielding both the dark and the light.

Now, thanks to the ancient Jedi texts and the holocrons, she had a framework, she had a framework for understanding and wielding her powers. From one of the latter, she'd learned about the lightsaber combat "Forms" and adopted the Ataru style, with elements pulled from other schools. It was a kinetic and hazardous style, bringing her close to the Dark Side due to its aggression, but potent, allowing her to turn an enemy's fury back upon them.

If she were to confront Kylo Ren, she’d need all of these lessons. So understanding and control were necessary. With each morsel of knowledge, she grew closer to becoming a full Jedi, able to carry the mantle which the Galaxy seemed to intend for her.

But the lessons of the past couldn’t ward off the sensations which invaded her sleep, the echoes of the broken Force bond between her and Kylo Ren.

She thought she’d severed it completely on Crait. In those moments after feeling Luke’s passing, she’d felt iron-hard, keeping the First Order from her people.

A few months later, however, she’d realised that it was beyond her power to break the bond completely. Even after Snoke’s death, splinters of it remained, enough to bridge the gap when Ren’s emotions burned hot enough.

That burn was frequent enough, and she knew the reasons for it. The Supreme Leader still brimmed with discontent. _He’s digging a void in his own soul, so he can throw up bigger walls around it. He’s trying to conquer everything outside himself, and he can’t see that the battle's within him. Or rather it was - he'll never know true peace and control, he'll be fighting forever for something that he won't get that way._

And that turmoil spilled all too readily into her thoughts. Occasionally she felt flashes of his rage, like searing heat which didn’t last long enough to burn her. Every now and then she awoke feeling cold, but with the scent of distant smoke in her nostrils.

_He is out there, and he’s swimming in blood. He’s only getting stronger._

They’d all hoped that the new Supreme Leader’s inner turmoil would make him a disaster for his own side. Alas, he had disappointed them in that. Even Finn, always ready to point out that Ren was a consummate field commander, had been surprised by the way he had adapted to being on the throne.

Ren was wise enough to rely on more experienced commanders for his broader strategy, and cunning and intimidating enough to make sure that discord in the First Order was kept to a minimum. The shattering onslaught Snoke had begun against the Republic had barely slowed, with world after world swallowed up by the tyrants.

Rey had spent months in the shadow of that offensive, carrying out rescue missions under Poe’s command and occasionally fighting full-scale battles against Ren’s forces. For the first time, she’d understood the terrifying scale of the enemy. How the hell were they to confront that? How was she to confront _him_ , when the time came?

Perhaps a second Jedi was a start. She began teaching Finn later that day, digging out the old training droid from the Falcon and handing him the new found saber. Blindfolded, Finn struggled at first but nonetheless got the hang of the routine quickly, anticipating and countering the sting-shots that the droid directed at him.

They were in one of the lower storage chambers, where people rarely ventured. Leia entered with R2, took a seat in a shadowed corner and watched quietly, occasionally offering a snippet of advice. The general didn’t speak much, though, and Rey preferred to leave her in peace.

Leia’s frailty saddened and frightened her in equal measure. The long days and strain of running the Resistance showed clearly in her – that, and the ever-growing burden of grief. When Rey had first met the general, she was the rock on which the Resistance was built. Now she wondered if Leia would see the end of the conflict. _One by one, we’re losing our heroes._

Finn swore, jolting her out of her thoughts. The training droid had caught him in the thigh with a shot, and he was hobbling.

Rey saw now that he’d started to flag. “Alright,” she said, clapping her hands together. The little droid bobbed and returned to her hand. “Enough of the physical stuff for now.”

Finn pulled of the blindfold and tossed her the saber. “It’s a good sword. Think I like the feel of it better than Luke’s.”

She winced at the mention of the Skywalker saber, and tried not to show how heavy she found the new one. “Yeah, it’s… good.”

He shot her a look. “You alright, Rey?”

“Yep.” She nodded curtly. “Come on, meditation time.” The must-we-do-this? look on his face was enough to bring her smile back. As both she and Rose had noted, Finn could stay physically in place for hours, but struggled to still his mind for any length of time. His brow furrowed as he sat down on the floor next to her.

“Now…” she closed her eyes. She could feel his mind close to her, the power waiting to be drawn out. “Breathe. Just breathe. Let everything else fall away.”

It took a few minutes for him to slow his thoughts, but in her mind’s eye she saw him. The light within him kindled, growing stronger.

“Oh,” he whispered. “It’s… beautiful.”

“Keep going. Reach outside yourself,” Rey pressed him. “See it?”

“I see you.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Alight with the Force.”

“And beyond me?”

“It’s there… it’s there in everyone here. Binding us, all of us-”

And then there was the familiar burbling call of a Wookie, and Finn’s focus was lost. Rey opened her eyes and saw Chewbacca in the doorway.

She gave Finn a reproachful look. “Your concentration might need some work, if Chewie shouting dinner’s enough to break it. But that was… that was good.” She remembered the words she had heard on Takodana, years ago, and reached out in an encouraging gesture. “Your first steps, Finn.”


	11. Pieces on the Board

Gorothad rain was cold and fell hard, soaking an unprotected being to the skin in mere seconds. The labourers on the docks and the landing pads around the Palace toiled on, however. Their overseers wouldn’t let them stop work for something so trivial as the elements. The Stormtroopers watched, still as always, water flowing over their armour. The towering AT-MA artillery walkers which also guarded the Palace stood unmoving, flanked by smaller machines. The rain ran off them in sheets. Further off, the black spires were little more than smudges, lit from the streets below.

In the lower levels, the downpour hammered the packed crowds of civilians and collected to run ankle-deep along the concourses, before plummeting into the cavernous sewers below. The world turned inexorably, uncaring of anyone’s misery.

Rain beat against the great glass dome of the Palace as Ren took his place at the head of the great strategium table, running his eyes over the occupants of the other seats. The First Order’s high command echelon was steadily building up around the table as generals and admirals filed in, followed by their underlings, and took their places.

Twenty-four individuals would take their seats, plus him. Twenty-five people at whose command worlds would burn and be broken to the First Order’s yoke.

Hux was one of the first in, though clearly without any eagerness. Ren anticipated the look of mostly-concealed loathing, and reserved his attention for the officer who followed Hux in. The affable Peavey was gone, replaced by a hulking, square-jawed brute with a colonel’s insignia.

Ren addressed him directly. “Colonel Stolan, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

The colonel bowed. “Supreme Leader, you honour me greatly.” A knowing look flickered in Hux’s eyes.

Ren affected not to notice, continuing to address the colonel. “The Mygeeto Suppression made a certain impression.” No doubt that had spurred Hux to favour Stolan, along with a certain zeal which the general must see in him – which reflected something in himself. Million-high piles of corpses had always held a certain appeal for Hux.

Ren noted too the glances that Stolan and Hux attracted as the other officers filed in. They fell neatly into two categories; impressed and apprehensive, with some shades of envy on both sides. The same could be said of the way they regarded him, try as the officers might to hide it. His Knights, stood in front of the rear wall, were the subject of many a furtive look.

_And you see all this too, don’t you Armitage?_

“I don’t see Captain Peavey among our esteemed company, General Hux.”

“He took a governorship on Utapau seven months ago, Supreme Leader. His commitment to the cause remains strong, but I fear whatever drive to conquer he had left was lost at Crait.”

Ren nodded. “I’m sure his abilities will be well-used in his new capacity. We have need of stable leadership in our new provinces, after all.” Inwardly, he wondered whether Peavey or Hux had made that decision, and whether fealty wasn’t more of a factor than drive.

The doors opened one last time to admit an older officer, with slicked-back hair and severe cheekbones. His face might as well have been designed to carry a haughty expression, but the respect with which he addressed Ren was sincere. This man was one of the old Emperor’s most loyal servants, one who had waged war at the side of Darth Vader.

That allegiance to the Dark Side had put him at the heart of the faction who supported Snoke’s rise to control the First Order, and it made him Ren’s most reliable commander now. The man bowed. “Revered Supreme Leader, it gladdens me to see you again.”

Ren extended an open hand, palm up. “Allegiant General Pryde. Welcome.” Pryde and Hux exchanged a look of cordial loathing as the older man took his place.

Ren rose in his seat, resting one arm on the table. “My dutiful commanders, we have been busy and achieved great things. Two years of war have seen hundreds of systems brought to heel and our long-promised vengeance delivered at last to the enablers of disorder. Now we begin a new phase. Our conquests proceed apace, but the task ahead is vast nonetheless.” He gestured, sitting back down. “Admiral Teluma, if you would provide an overview.”

Teluma stood, activating a holo display. Whole sectors were laid out in the glowing patterns – the new conquests coloured deep purple – accompanied by the arrowheads of First Order fleets. Other icons appeared in the periphery, representing the effective strength of the Stormtrooper Legions. This wasn’t strictly necessary, but Ren wanted to strike the appropriate tone.

Teluma began. “The Core was largely overrun after the destruction of the Hosnian System by forces under General Pryde and can be now considered firmly under our control. The disarray among the enemy allowed for a highly effective strategy of defeat-in-detail. Indeed,” she added, “with the momentum generated we have replicated that success on more recent campaigns, taking great swathes of the Mid Rim. The need to allocate garrison forces for these sectors, however, has eaten into what forces we can deploy elsewhere. As you see here.”

A number of Stormtrooper icons turned the same purple as the newly conquered systems.

“This seems a disproportionate use of personnel and resources,” General Parnadee interjected. “For mere garrison duties.”

Hux glanced at Ren before replying, leaning forward as he eyed his opposite number. “We have long—term considerations. We are aiming to establish complete control of the Mid Rim within three years and subjugate the Outer within eight.” He steepled his fingers. “To hold those conquests will require us to outstrip even the Empire’s strength, and to that end we need to harvest millions of infants from our most densely populated sectors.”

“Tens of millions,” Ren corrected him.

Hux nodded, suppressing a look of annoyance. “Just as you say, Supreme Leader. Equipping those troops and building ships to transport them will require the labour of billions more.”

Perhaps it was the sheer pace of the last two years, Ren mused, which caused some officers to overlook such difficulties. Because that aside, their position was precarious. The First Order, for all the lessons of the Empire’s defeat, had not started from the same position of strength as its predecessor. Its technology might be more advanced, but it had only a fraction of the manpower which Palpatine had commanded.

Even the industry claimed from the Republic and the uncounted millions of labourers, taken prisoner and consigned to toil as slaves for the First Order war machine, hadn’t brought them close. It wouldn’t do so for at least a decade.

And each victory came with losses. Here and there a planet had displayed unexpected tenacity, or the Resistance had taken a hand and inflicted serious casualties. Sometimes both things happened at once.

No, both Hux and Ren were well aware of the dangers of overstretching themselves. It was one of perhaps ten things they actually agreed upon these days.

“Which comes with a certain potential for unrest,” Ren added. “So, as Snoke used to say, we must invest resources now, and use the dividends to achieve our future conquests.”

Director Xusk, in the white of the Science Division, coughed quietly. “On that note, Supreme Leader, we in the Science Division feel that renewed investment in our planet-killer program might work to stem-”

Ren drummed his fingers on the stone tabletop. Xusk abruptly fell silent, though Ren saw the frustrated look before it was stifled. It was to be expected, he supposed. The Science Division had been kept busy designing weapons, armour and war machines for the First Order’s armies. This was what the Supreme Leader required, but still Xusk and his ilk chafed at the restrictions. The gigantomania which the Empire had handed down to its successors seemed to run especially strong in the scientists. Always, their thoughts turned back to planet-killers.

Ren turned fractionally to Hux with a raised eyebrow. Hux met his gaze, but kept his face in a studiedly neutral expression. Make that the second of the ten things they concurred on.

Xusk saw, and his face immediately fell as Ren finally turned to him. “Superweapons will be of limited utility and provide another rallying point for the Resistance, to say nothing of what we lost in the destruction of Starkiller Base. We need assets for conquest as well as stamping out unrest and defiance. With finite time and resources, practicality must be our watchword.”

“Although if I may, Supreme Leader,” Hux said. “We have objectives outlined here – Lesth, for example – which lack any clear military value. All the archives show in these cases is a connection to the ancient Sith.”

Well did Ren mark the expressions on certain faces as Hux left the question to dangle, implicit. But it was Pryde who responded.

“I would remind you, my dear Armitage,” and of course Hux’s nostrils flared at that, “that the Empire whose memory we so revere was built upon the power of the Dark Side and its intrigues. Relics of that power should not be disregarded as mere trinkets.” Pryde arched his eyebrows and theatrically inspected his fingernails before returning Hux’s stare. “Certainly not when a Jedi remains at large in the Galaxy, serving the enemy.”

And especially not when Luke Skywalker had only recently demonstrated how great an annoyance a single Jedi could prove. If not for that one Jedi, the Resistance would have perished that day, in the mines beneath Crait. The Galaxy would have been taught the consequences of defying the First Order.

Leaving aside the survival of the Resistance, Ren wondered just how many millions of people had defied the First Order since then, because of his old master’s example. He’d seen enough murals and paintings commemorating him, heard enough rebels use his name for a battle cry.

Added to that, there was the question of Skywalker’s apprentice. “The regicide,” he said softly, daring any officer in the room to express some degree of scepticism. At some point in the days after Crait, Rey had ceased to be referred to as the Scavenger, now known above all for the low and dishonourable murder of the old Supreme Leader. There wasn’t a world under the First Order’s rule where her face didn’t decorate a thousand wanted posters.

It was never openly questioned, the assertion that a raw Jedi Apprentice had killed the Supreme Leader. Most assumed that the _Raddus_ ’ suicide attack on the _Supremacy_ had provided her with the chance, disorienting Snoke, Kylo Ren and the Praetorian Guards. Those who guessed at it being a falsehood were silenced.

At times like this, Ren watched Hux with particular care. He had first spoken the lie to him, and he doubted that Hux had believed it for even a second. Which meant that Ren had to live the lie, notwithstanding the advantages of having such a hate figure as Rey for his soldiers to fixate on. He did, after all, very much want her captured.

“We have been lax in our pursuit of her and the rabble to which she belongs,” he continued. “Moreover, escapees from our conquests have taken refuge with them, and their numbers are growing. Where before they barely had enough people to fill a single freighter ship, now they are approaching the strength of the old Rebel Alliance. Nothing to threaten us yet, but every day this state of affairs continues, we do our former master greater dishonour.”

He gestured to the huge portrait of Snoke which hung behind him. The old Supreme Leader glowered down at them from the canvass. There was a brief silence, as the assembled officers eyed the painting. Some looked uneasy, others kept their expressions guarded.

High Inquisitor Torqueda, garbed in the dark red of his order, spoke next. His voice was soft and sibilant; the mark of a man who had long ago learned that he could be at his most frightening when he talked quietly. Sure enough, he had the ear of everyone present. “The matter of the missing Star Destroyer in the Eskrin Sector seems pertinent, especially in light of the Camba Incident.”

Ren gave Hux a lingering look. _Yes, the reports have reached me now. No, I don’t see your fingerprints on the cover-up, but the authorisation had to come from somewhere._

Torqueda continued. “Our assets in the region believe the _Vehement_ ’s crew have fled into the old Tion Hegemony, and that the Resistance have become aware of it. They have been elusive in recent months, but,” he said with a feline smile, “we have ensnared and broken a few operatives of late. The Resistance seems to be moving assets in the direction of Tion, and so we have a dual opportunity.”

“Thank you, High Inquisitor,” Ren said. “And General Hux, as the foremost advocate of the Stormtrooper program, I would have you deal with this matter. Purge the defect from our armies, and should the insurgents show themselves…” he smiled mirthlessly. “I’m sure you’ll be eager to pay them back for the _Supremacy_.”

Hux inclined his head. “I shall attend to it with the greatest care, Supreme Leader.” He controlled himself well, but Ren sensed the acid burn of hatred in the General.

_When your time comes, it won’t be the gallows or a firing squad. I will bury my blade up to the hilt in your chest, smell your blood burning, and watch the life fade from your eyes._ “Good.” The time had come, in any case, to allocate taskings and objectives to the rest. “General Pryde and I will join you in due course, but for now he and I shall complete the Chomell Sector’s annexation. In the meantime, I will send two of my Knights with you. Gwaelyn, Torlun, you will accompany the good General on his mission.”

The chosen warriors advanced. Hux’s jaw tensed as his gaze flicked to them.

Ren pretended not to see it, looking down at the report in front of him. But it was satisfying nonetheless. “You know what I require of you,” he addressed the Knights. “Slay any who stand between you and the girl. Bring her to me – alive if you can, but I will accept her corpse if circumstances dictate it.”

He looked to Hux. “I recommend you depart imminently, General. It wouldn’t do to let the stain linger on our proud legions any longer than it has already.”


	12. Preparation and Worry

All around Finn, Rose and Poe, the Agnoan base was abuzz with activity. They stood at the edge of the airfields, watching was, to Finn’s eyes, a peculiar sort of tightly regimented chaos. Transports and fighter craft were descending from orbit, and the airfields thronged with technicians, troops, droids. Signallers were out on the landing strips, guiding the newcomers to ground.

Leia, as Rose noted, was being generous with the new assets for the Tion mission. A couple of thousand soldiers and a small fleet had been allocated to Poe’s strike force, along with an impressive array of fighter and bomber craft. X-Wings, U-Wings – even a squadron of V-Wings, repurposed from an old Clone Wars design with modern tech.

Despite that, Finn found himself thinking more that this said something about how dangerous their coming mission would be. Poe was probably thinking the same, but he hid it better, enthusing for the benefit of the others.

“So add Violet, Blue, and Silver squadrons to Black and Green. It’s a good roster, and we’ve more to come.”

It helped that some old friends had come to the muster. Blue Squadron, led by Snap Wexley, were among the new arrivals. The fighters and bombers touched down, flanking some hulking gunships which resembled outsized Y-Wing bombers. Poe and his pilots greeted their old wingmen effusively.

Snap laughed, cheerfully, thumping Poe on the back before enveloping Jess Pava in a hug. “Testor, you’ve still got BA-9! Almost a full nine months.”

She thumped Snap’s shoulder. “Don’t say that when she can hear! It took me long enough to get her feeling safe with me.” She tried to keep her tone humorous, but they could all hear the tension in her voice. She’d struggled for years to shake her “great destroyer of droids” reputation, and hated how skittish astromechs could get around her. BA-9, currently running in circles with BB-8, had been rescued by Jess from a First Order base, and pilot and droid were inseparable.

Poe nudged Snap. “Hey, more respect for your fellow captain, pal.” Then he defused the situation by changing the subject. “You missed Jess’ gunship kill on Vatel, Snap. Textbook strike, you’d have loved it. Anyway, see you’ve brought us some new toys,” he grinned at Snap, gesturing to the big gunships. “So these are the new H-Wings we’ve heard so much about? Oh, hold on...” he turned to Finn. "You pulled the schematics for these off Kerothime, right?"

“That’s right.” Snap gestured up at the gun turrets on the heavily armoured hull of the nearest transport. “With compliments from Eriadu.” That was one of the few industrial worlds which remained in Resistance hands – though for how long, with Kylo Ren preparing the next wave of conquests, no one could be sure.

"They look as good as we'd hoped," Finn smiled. It had been a tricky operation to grab the H-Wing plans, retrieving them from a Republic city even as it fell to an assault by Kylo Ren's own fleet. To see it pay off like this, and to know they'd be going on their next mission with machines like this in their arsenal, was very satisfying indeed.

Poe was nodding happily. "Those guns are gonna have a hell of a kick. Just what we need for this op..."

Finn listened in silence, nodding politely in response to the salutes that came his way and occasionally returning them. Here and there were soldiers he’d fought with, at Crait or in the following campaigns.

Snap was talking up the firepower of the new ships and their durability. Finn turned to Rose. “These ships all look nice and burly, but this tells me that where we’re going, the brass expect a lot of trouble.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she responded. “Wait until you see the gear we’re going over in Engineering.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Hmm… maybe not yet. But… oh. Oh my. Tell me they’re not giving us those.”

Finn followed her gaze and felt his mouth fall open, seeing two more squadrons which had come into view. Even at a distance, the craft were… a mess. A hodgepodge of distinctly irregular shapes. Hybrid designs, integrating First Order components with Resistance parts and other, less identifiable machines.

As they came in to land, their appearance didn’t get any better.

“No no no no,” Rose protested. “Poe, you’re not telling me…”

“Rose, Finn, meet Ugly Squadron and Mongrel Squadron,” Poe told her breezily.

Finn tore his eyes away from the newcomers to regard him. “You’re kidding.”

Poe shot him a fleeting, slightly tired look. “Wish I was, my friends, but we’ve got more pilots than viable craft. So at a certain point, you’ve gotta improvise.”

“Just like the old days!” Wedge Antilles had appeared from among the pilots, beaming. “Don’t worry about how the patchworks look, Rose, they pack a hell of a punch. What’s more, the enemy never expect them to, given their appearance.”

“Even if you’re sticking to the X-Wings yourself,” Finn retorted.

The veteran shrugged. “It’s a classic design, just like me. I leave the irregular craft to the kids. Now,” he said, “I’ll be happy to grab a drink or two with you lads later, but for now I need someone to point me at Engineering.”

“I’ll show you. I’m headed that way now,” Rose said. Finn felt quietly proud of her, talking easily to a true legend of the Rebel Alliance. Then she addressed him. “Try to make sure Poe doesn’t take one of those new ships for a spin. Catch you later.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, and in spite of his worries, it buoyed him up.

Poe was still inspecting the H-Wings and making approving noises, likely trying to picture how these would mesh with their existing squadrons. He, Jess and Snap would be spending the afternoon on simulations then, leaving Finn to deal with the ground troops. Just as Jess was Poe’s deputy in the air and the void, Finn was his right hand in terrestrial matters.

Which Finn found he was OK with. He was a captain of the Resistance and proud to serve, proud to be the right-hand man to Poe Dameron. The feeling that he was an imposter in the role, which had persisted even for a while after Crait, had long since fallen away. It felt _right_ to be where he was.

He only hoped Rey was getting close to feeling the same. Every now and then, she’d let her unease show at being treated like a hero. Even though, to so many across the Galaxy, she was very much that.

“Well there’s a sight for sore eyes!”

Now that was a familiar voice. And sure enough, when he looked around, the speaker was at about waist-height. “Hey Maz.”

Maz Kanata beamed up at him, flanked by her rag-tag crew. She was formally a part of the Resistance, but still surrounded herself with a particular band of fighters. “You’re looking well, Finn. Fighting suits you better than running.”

Finn snorted. “And how about you? Pirate life still treating you well?”

“ _Privateer_ ’s life, young man.” Maz wagged a finger at him, and her crew within earshot all smirked. “Important distinction. No real pirate would do anything as reckless and unprofitable as signing up to your mad little band.”

“Well, your dedication’s apprecia-”

“Oh, stuff dedication. I want damages for my tavern, and the First Order will only pay out at gunpoint.” She winked, but that seemed to be the thing with Maz. You could never tell just how much of what she said was in jest.

“If you say so. I’ll put the pen in Hux’s hand for you, given the chance.” He looked at her crew. “So you’re our fleet commander on this mission?”

“Aye. Farrun wanted someone who knows Tion, and I’ve spent plenty of time out that way. Bandit space.”

“And we’ve got the First Order hunting there too.” He sighed. “Joy…”

Rey returned to the hangar and the Falcon after the evening meal, needing an early night. Kaydel, as she sometimes did, had asked to walk back with her. It had become a habit of theirs, a chance to talk about minor things and try to forget about the war for a little while.

Kaydel was singing, an old Alderaanian ditty she’d picked up from Leia. It was in a dialect Rey didn’t know, but it had a yearning quality that she found rather touching. Especially with the way Kaydel got caught up in it, swaying a little with the rhythm of the song.

Kaydel’s eyes flicked to hers, and Rey looked down at her boots, realising she’d been caught looking again. She glanced back, noting the expectant look Kaydel was trying to hide.

“I like what you’ve done with your hair.” Which was true enough. The braid Kaydel had adopted made her look a little older, but it framed her face nicely. A face Rey had liked since she’d first seen it.

Kaydel blushed, tilting her head downward a little but still regarding Rey with an enigmatic smile. “Thanks.”

Rey wasn’t quite sure where to go from there. She cast around for something to talk about, but Kaydel beat her to it. “Do you ever think about what you’ll do after all this is over?”

“After the war?” Rey shrugged. “No real plans. Everything feels too uncertain and too far off.” Not to mention that the First Order and its Supreme Leader loomed so large in her mind.

“But you’ve gotta have some kind of aspirations, right?” Kaydel reached out and slung an arm around her shoulders. “We’re fighting for our own freedom as well as everyone else’s. You should… want to do something with it.”

Rey put a hand on Kaydel’s shoulder in return. “I think I’ve got something,” she replied. The Falcon was within sight now. “I want to go out into the stars one day. No mission, no one chasing us. Just pick a place that sounds exciting, chart a course and-” she made a little whooshing noise, her hand darting up towards the night sky.

She dropped her eyes to Kaydel again. The other woman smiled softly. “That sounds pretty grand, Rey. I’d like to be in on an adventure like that.”

Rey smiled back. “And you? You’ve had longer to make plans than me.”

Kaydel considered for a moment. “I want to belong somewhere, when this is all done and it’s not us against the Galaxy. I mean seriously, I’d also jump at the chance to jet off and explore – and your grand voyage will need a crew, huh?”

She sounded sincere, but Rey couldn’t help but wonder if Kaydel was just speaking for herself. She suddenly felt quite exposed, in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to for a long time now, however much as she wanted to.

She let her arm drop. “There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there Kaydel?”

Kaydel gave her a slightly apprehensive look, before pulling away herself. “Just that you seem to be keeping your distance from everyone else, even now.” _After all we’ve been through_ , was the bit she left unspoken. “Right down to crashing in the Falcon every night.”

She tried to shrug it off. “It’s convenient.”

Kaydel wasn’t having it. “But lonely, isn’t it?” They were almost at the Falcon. “It’s like you’re holding yourself apart from the rest of us.”

She must have seen Rey’s expression falter for a moment, and her next words came out in a rush. “Look Rey, I’ve got space in my bed – I-I mean I’ve got a spare bunk in my billet right now. If you fancy it?” R2 trundled into view and paused for a moment at the top of the ramp, but he seemed to think better of it and withdrew. Kaydel pressed on. “Just for one night.” Rey thought she recognised the jumble of nervousness and hope in Kaydel’s voice.

“Another night, maybe.” She hugged the other woman, trying to suppress the thrill when Kaydel squeezed her back, and headed up the ramp. There. Conversation over, threat neutralised, goodnight – but why did it have to register as a threat in her mind?

And then Kaydel called from behind her. “Can you just spend a night away from the saber?”

That brought her up short. she turned a little, standing in the doorway. “I’m sorry?”

Kaydel sighed, coming a little closer. Her gaze, usually pin-sharp, had softened. “Closed book doesn’t work for you, Rey. I’ve walked in on you three times to find you staring into a drawer, and I know what’s in that drawer.”

Rey knew she was right. But she didn't want to admit that yes, she spent night after night staring at a broken lightsaber. “Didn’t realise you were that concerned about where I stared.”

“Where you’re staring doesn’t bother me, so much as where your head’s at.” Kaydel halted at the bottom of the ramp, putting one arm around a support. “Rey, you did a lot for my peace of mind, and I’m… concerned about yours. My offer still stands.”

She was tempted. Oh yes she was, and she felt a quiver in her stomach as she wondered if Kaydel really meant her spare bunk. _She might want it too. All it would take is to say yes, and ask your own question._

But she didn’t dare, not just now. Because she’d stood here before, with eyes gazing up at her. The eyes of someone else she’d opened herself up to. And ever since then, the idea of making herself vulnerable like that again terrified her.

“See you in the morning, Kaydel.” She closed the door. Too slow for Kaydel to miss the reluctant look in her eyes.

She slumped against the wall, castigating herself. And sure enough, that night found her contemplating the broken hilt, and the newly recovered saber. Even the new weapon, untried as it was, couldn’t take her mind off the conflict roiling inside her.


	13. Councils and Schemes

Having two Knights of Ren on one’s bridge, Hux found, was like a persistent itch you couldn’t reach to scratch. The _Unremitting_ and its fleet broke from orbit, leaving Gorothad behind and the ship as Hux’s domain once again. Fifteen vessels of various classes flocked around it, ready to do his bidding.

But still the Supreme Leader’s shadow was with him in the form of the two warriors in black. They prowled, moving out of time with the clockwork rhythm of the bridge personnel.

The woman Gwaelyn, in particular, bothered him. Torlun rarely looked at Hux, but the empty eyes of Gwaelyn’s ghoulish helmet followed him constantly as she strutted around the bridge. Perhaps that stance might be seductive in another woman, without such a macabre bit of headgear. As it was, Hux found it had a distinctly predatory feel to it, and it made his skin crawl. He got the distinct impression that the effect was deliberate, and that Gwaelyn was enjoying this.

At least the Knights were the only creatures of the Supreme Leader which he had to worry about. The Stormtroopers in the fleet were his to a man; brought up under his regime, conditioned to his specifications and tested time and time again in his service. Battles, suppression operations and even purges of errant First Order personnel.

Because yes, there had been some of those, and no, the Supreme Leader had not been informed. Hux wasn’t about to give Ren any excuse to take full control of the recruitment process, or revive the proposals for a droid or clone army. Certainly not until there had been extensive changes at the top of the hierarchy.

His mouth twitched. _All in good time, Ren. My father didn’t see his death coming, but for you…_ He watched the cruisers drifting alongside his ship. _You’ll know all about it, I’ll make sure of that._

Stolan approached. “General, all is in readiness. We jump to hyperspace in ten minutes, by your will.” Then his voice dropped. “The secure channel is readied.”

“Good,” Hux replied, as blandly as possible. “I will retire to my quarters. Preparations have been taxing.” That much was true. He’d had bags under his eyes for weeks. “Colonel Stolan, you have the bridge until I return.”

He strode imperiously through the corridors, but even with his guard squadron around him, he found his movements becoming furtive as he moved towards his quarters. Anger curdled in him. A Mouse Droid pulled out too sharply in front of him and was kicked unceremoniously out of his way. A glossy black astromech wisely retreated into a side corridor.

This was what Ren had done to him, made him feel unsafe in those places where his power should be untrammelled.

But this was the truth of how things stood. He’d been content to ignore it over the last several months, out on campaign and with the Supreme Leader at the very back of his mind. The prototype droid army which Ren commissioned had been sabotaged by the Resistance – the “Regicide” and the Traitor at work. That was one victory which Hux didn’t begrudge them too much, he supposed.

Indeed, when Ren set out for the wilderness on his absurd pilgrimage, Hux had dared to hope that would prove the end of him. Wild space was a haven for pirates and other such scum, after all.

He had fantasised, at times, about a transmission from a pirate fleet. They would have captured Ren and wanted to ransom him. Hux would have paid, of course. No price would have been too high to have Ren delivered helplessly into his grip.

Now Hux scowled at the memory. Those complacent thoughts had been a weakness. So had his sluggish preparations during Ren’s absence. The glory and pleasure of conquest had proved a potent distraction too, keeping his thoughts off the future. Even if Ren turning out to be a non-disaster on the throne had taken him off guard. Hux had spent long enough waiting for the other shoe to drop. This time he would get ahead of his enemy.

Though he would have to find some way of dealing with Torlun and Gwaelyn.

He reached his quarters. Two of his guards followed him in, leaving the rest to stand watch outside. The door closed behind him with a series of clangs and clicks. Beneath that was a whir, the sound of a selective jamming unit which left a single frequency clear. The rooms here were spartan in design and decoration, with only a few portraits and commemorative icons on the walls. It betokened rationality and discipline, in contrast to Ren’s chambers with their charnel artefacts.

Hux exhaled, breathed in and out again, his eyes closed. Finally feeling some of the tension leave him, he moved to the comms unit and keyed in a twelve-digit code.

Glowing blue figures flickered into being around him. His trusted allies – or rather his supporters – among High Command, those who were willing to fight for true order and legitimate authority.

And others, dressed in the uniforms of military governors. Hux turned to the nearest hologram. “High Inquisitor, we seem to have some new friends.”

Torqueda gave him a thin smile. “The Supreme Leader’s return from his pilgrimage has rather concentrated minds.”

General Parnadee spoke up. “If I may, Inquisitor, I’m rather surprised to find you among us. Given the history of your order…”

Torqueda turned to her, irritation tugging at his face. “My organisation is not the same as the old Inquisitorius. They were steeped in the Force, creatures of Palpatine and Vader. The Inquisition of the First Order is free of such occultism.” He sneered. “Not least because Ren wanted a monopoly on such power for himself. But now he is on the throne, he will not suffer us to remain pure for much longer.”

One of the governors seemed about to speak, but the High Inquisitor cut him off. “This, my dear Ugo, is why we find it necessary to act on such a timescale. If the Supreme Leader gets his claws into the Inquisition, there will be no one left to shroud your activities.”

“Are we really sure that he intends to act so swiftly?” another governor asked. This was Jorg Mangat, who presided over Corellia and ensured its shipyards churned out vessels for the First Order. He was corpulent, and his flabby jowls wobbled when he spoke.

“He has assembled the eight,” Hux said. Despite the monotone blue of the holos around him, he fancied that some of them blanched at those words. “That whole poisonous coven. Such a thing has not happened in years – frankly I am not sure that Snoke would have permitted it. That is enough of an indication for me of our Supreme Leader’s intentions.”

“Easy enough to ignore while he was out in the badlands,” Torqueda said. “But no longer. He didn’t find his death as so many of us hoped, and we failed to build our own strength enough to challenge him openly.”

Hux concurred. “The ice we walk on is only getting thinner. Ren will instigate a purge the second he feels secure, or if he believes it is necessary to remove us. As such, we will need a failsafe.” He eyed Torqueda. “Personnel placed close to Ren, who can be relied upon to take drastic action should it prove necessary.”

The High Inquisitor smiled coldly. “We have appropriate assets which can be assigned. I have been in contact with Captain Hauma, and he remains willing to act if he has support.” Hux smiled at that. Hauma was one of the officers in Ren’s fleet, his eyes and ears in the Supreme Leader’s presence. “If that is all that is required of me, I will attend to that now and leave the rest of our plans to you, General.” An ironic smirk twisted his lips. “Long live the Supreme Leader.”

Ren too was in council, surrounded by the rest of his Knights in the throne room. He reclined, nonetheless ready to tense and rise from his seat at a moment’s notice. His fingers drummed on the arm of his throne as Yimur approached, a hand on the hilt of his sword.

If you looked closely at that hilt – not that many got the chance – you could glean a clue to the Knights’ origins among Luke Skywalker’s Jedi apprentices. When Skywalker had begun tutoring Ben Solo, he had taken a number of students to be Padawans. Most of them were now dead, the only survivors comprising the Knights of Ren.

On that night of fire and blood, the night that Skywalker betrayed his nephew – or so his nephew had thought – they had joined him in torching the temple and killing their fellows who resisted. Then they had followed him when Snoke beckoned, and swore their souls to the Supreme Leader.

Now they were something else, both greater and lesser. They were creatures of the Ren now, bound to their master by the power of the Dark Side. It gave them strength, but it also leashed them to Ren’s will. But each of them remembered how they had once been. Their weapons were a testament to that, for each comprised the hilts of their old lightsabers.

When, as instructed by Snoke, the apprentices had come to perform the bleeding ritual, not one of them had succeeded apart from Kylo. The Kyber crystals had rebelled against such abuse; even Ren’s was unstable as a result and he had been obliged to adapt his saber to function with it.

The others’ crystals had simply disintegrated. Snoke had taken this as a sign that his servants were as yet unworthy to wield lightsabers in his name. And from Crait onwards, the demands of war had been too great to allow anything so frivolous as a crystal hunt. So the Knights had settled for advanced vibro-blades, incorporating their old weapons as a memento mori.

Ren waited, his right-hand man studying him cautiously before speaking. Even with the heavy, brutal helm, Yimur’s hesitance was plain. “If I may say so, Master, you might have deprived us of a good kill. I would feel robbed if Gwaelyn and Torlun take Hux for themselves.”

That amused Ren, a smile tugging at his lips. The Knights had followed him in his sojourn into the shadowed regions, into the tombs of Korriban and through the ruins of the Mustafar fortress. As his power had grown, so had theirs. Now they burned with the desire to use it, and to cut out all that might oppose their master from the First Order.

“Fear not, Yimur. I doubt that will prove necessary just yet.” He leaned forward. “Hux wages war from a position of strength, always. He won’t act until he perceives that he has the upper hand. Mark this – Hux is an afterthought right now. The girl is our priority.”

He had decided that some weeks ago. In recent months, as he traversed worlds where the Dark Side was strong, it had all but blotted out the glimpses he received through the remnants of their old bond. Rey had tried to break it on Crait, and largely succeeded.

But every now and again he would get a glimpse, an echo. Never enough to see where she was, but he could glean her sense of mind. He saw a half-formed Jedi, a young woman turned warrior and yet fearful of the day he would confront her.

She must feel something too. She must be aware that now, they were not so evenly matched. Even before one considered that Ren had the Knights at his back. All of them had a long tally of kills. In the years before Ren seized power, Snoke had set him and the Knights to hunt down and exterminate any Force-sensitive beings which came to his attention. The Knights had all developed a taste for it.

Ren kept his words on the matter at hand. “We have been committed to the end of the Jedi Order since Skywalker turned on us. Since we burned his temple. Rey is all that is left of it, and so the Jedi end with her.”

Yimur spoke softly at the mention of the girl, clearly weighing the words carefully. “Do you wish her dead? Or might she be broken, and brought into the Ren? That is…” he paused, studying his master. “If Gwaelyn doesn’t make the decision for you. She thirsts.”

Ren kept his expression impassive. “If Gwaelyn or Torlun best her, then they will have earned the right to decide whether to kill or spare her.”

“But as for what you want, master?”

The other Knights all stiffened at that.

Ren put his head on one side. “I _want_ her, you’re not wrong there. But she’s too powerful to be easily shackled.”

“And proof against the pull of the Dark?” Doubt rode on Yimur’s words.

“She’s committed to the Resistance, and against us. But she chose them out of a need for shelter. That is their appeal after all – protection for the feeble, a family to the orphaned and a refuge for the homeless. Her weakness drove her into their arms.”

Yimur considered. “If there is weakness in her spirit, we can use it. Rip her family away and seize her, and she will break. Then we poison the wound and she will turn. You almost did it before, after all.”

“If she is so fragile, then what need do we have of her?” Verix’s voice was the same sneer as always, matching the stylised visage of his mask. Even though the Ren yoked him to Kylo’s will, his arrogance had him perpetually straining at his leash. “The Ren admits no frailty.”

Yimur’s head snapped around to the smaller Knight, clearly readying a fierce response. But Ren spoke first. “Your words are irrelevant, Verix, as ever. Your own ill-discipline hasn’t stopped me finding a use for you, after all. I have spoken – this ends with her dead or broken. Which eventuality comes to pass will depend on circumstance, but be assured. There will be no Jedi after Rey.”

Verix seemed mollified at that, and Yimur did not care to make anything more of the issue.

Krobakh, the quiet and mordant axeman, approached. He thumped his axe once against the stone floor. Ren felt a flicker of amusement from Verix, but for once the vicious jester didn’t voice it.

Krobakh ignored his brother, addressing Ren directly. His voice was rough, rarely used, and his hood was raised over his helm. “Master, the invasion force is assembled and Allegiant General Pryde awaits your orders.” The Knights stood straighter upon hearing that, and Ren felt their thirst for bloodshed.

It was in him too, a kindling in his heart. Yes, it was time once again. “Yimur, take up the dagger.” Yimur moved to the plinth in question. Ren had claimed the curved, pale blade from a cave beneath the blighted earth of Azkalat, where the imprisoned souls of the ancient Kemazad cult still screamed millennia after they had died. It had taken months of research to ascertain its seemingly unique, esoteric uses. Truly, Hux was looking at the Galaxy with one eye closed.

Jhorush and Nagai moved to the stand where his armour was kept, glimmering in the shadows. Like the Knights’ own garb, it was forged from Beskar. A rare alloy which the legendary Mandolorians had prized for their own armour, it could resist even a glancing blow from a lightsaber. It had taken Snoke years to trace a smith with the skill to forge Beskar, and still longer for Ren to acquire the necessary materials. These were the fruits of that labour.

Ren rose and stepped away from the throne, rolling his shoulders in anticipation. The Knights armoured him, setting the pieces in place and adding his cloak when they had finished.

For a man with Ren’s strength, the armour was little encumbrance. And a minor burden was, in his mind, a price worth paying for protection. There was the matter of the pain caused by the inbuilt mag-coils when they were active, but Ren cared little for that. He’d endured far worse, and with his growing mastery of the Dark Side, pain was just more fuel for him.

Nazur approached, bearing Ren’s fearsome new helmet. The Knight inclined his head and offered it. Ren smiled as he tucked it under his arm. It was a heavier, more advanced design than his old mask. He had no need to hide any more, true, but he liked the fear it struck into his enemies. And in any case, head protection on the battlefield could hardly hurt.

“Let us depart. Instruct Pryde to set course for Naboo – we have opposition to quell, and one more tie to the past which wants cutting.” He took his saber and hooked it to his belt. “Then we go after the girl.”

His elite squadrons fell in around him as they exited the throne room.

His path took him through the corridors and the cavernous hall, watched nervously by staff who knelt when he passed. More and more squads fell in, locking into place like the parts of some great mechanism.

Out onto the rain-washed plaza, packed with soldiers and transports. His command shuttle sat proudly among the new Scythe gunships which ringed the space, wings folded imperiously upwards. Twenty-five divisions of Stormtroopers stood to attention before the transports, uncaring of the rainwater that ran down their armour. Most were clad in the usual white, but the five divisions at the centre wore the black and red of the 66th Legion, their primacy clear. In perfect unison they stamped their feet and threw out a salute, the massed thud echoing back from the walls of the Palace. Ren stood for a moment, relishing the feeling of power this gave him.

But something niggled at him briefly. He turned and saw a young lieutenant, who tried suddenly to look as if he hadn’t been staring at the Supreme Leader. Ren looked closer – this was one of the new ones, freshly assigned to his flagship. Torqueda had arranged a few transfers to make good on recent losses. The journey into the shadowed systems had taken its toll on the sanity of some of the fleet’s officers.

But there had been _something_ , Ren thought, about the way the young man looked at him. Something more than simple awe and fear.

It mattered not. A mere lieutenant was beneath his notice. He made for the shuttle, leaving his officers to order the Stormtroopers aboard their transports.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware of the retcon to Kylo destroying the temple, but if they wanted me to pay attention to that it should've gone in the film :P
> 
> If you want to play the "famous English actors as First Order officers" game, Torqueda is definitely Mark Gatiss in my mind. Suggestions welcomed for Stolan.


	14. Relic

Rey and Rose were sat by the training fields on the edge of the base, taking refuge from the afternoon sun under a lightweight fabric canopy. The heat had prompted Rey to switch back to lightweight clothes; vest, wraps and cut-off trousers. It felt good, to feel air on the bare skin of her upper arms again.

She glanced at the old scar again, tensing a little and watching it pull tight, then looked out at the training fields again. The Resistance had thrown up obstacle courses and sparring rings here, on the yellow grass and red earth. She could see the Scrappers from here, in among the regular soldiers and officers.

Poe and Finn were still inspecting the new units for the Raxus Prime mission. Chewbacca had gone to see Leia. Kaydel was catching up with friends in Mission Control and getting her head around the larger force she’d be coordinating. At a loose end, the Scrappers went about their usual routine.

Rose had taken time out from her own schedule to look at their find from Vatel. “It must be at least fifty years old,” she said, nodding at the lightsaber in Rey’s hands. “A legacy of the Old Republic.” 

Rey turned the hilt over. It was a hefty weapon, much more so than the Skywalker saber whose broken parts were locked away on the Falcon. This one was much less elegant in its design, reminiscent of Kylo Ren's instead. It was brutal and utilitarian; something about it suggested that its maker had intended it to be wielded by armoured fingers.

She looked at Rose. “Do we know whose it was?”

“We don’t have a name on record.” Rose shrugged, setting another data-pad aside. She and Rey had been looking through them all morning, trying to glean something about the previous owner from recovered Imperial archives. “There’s a reason no one had touched that place before we got there. He was just another forgotten hero.”

“Well whoever he was, he was a true warrior of the old Order.” She’d known that from his final battleground. Rey took the hilt in her hands, again feeling the considerable weight of it, before looking out at the Agnoan sea. “We could do with that sort of Jedi now.”

She wanted badly to be that kind of Jedi. In truth she was a large part of the way there, even with the time she had to put into studying the old texts. She'd led troops on raids and rescue missions, taken down plenty of enemies by now. Beasts in the wilderness, Stormtroopers on the battlefield, even gladiators in the blood-pits where they’d found Nyzar and LM.

She wanted to fit the legacy of a Jedi like the mysterious Ikotchi. She wanted the saber’s vivid indigo blade to seem right for her. She wanted the weapon to fit her as well as the Skywalker one had. 

The problem was that, ten minutes into sparring with the saber on low power, she knew it didn’t, and everyone around her could see it didn’t. Its weight and bulky construction would suit a style like Djem So, but they clashed with the swift, busy motions of the Ataru discipline which Rey favoured.

“You’re flagging, captain,” Nyzar told her, as they squared up again. The big Zabrak made a virtue of bluntness. “Saber’s too heavy for you.”

Rey’s breath sawed in and out of her as she raised the saber again. The mass of the hilt didn’t allow for the looser style that the Skywalker blade had, forcing her into cruder swings and blocks. Nyzar raised an eyebrow, but fell into a guard position with the practice blade which stood in for his axe.

She went on the attack. She was on the tightrope between the light and dark, feeding off her own frustration and the acid burn in her arms. She put Nyzar on the back foot and kept driving him, earning an appreciative grimace from him.

But there was an element of desperation to her method - if she let her opponent go on the offensive, she wouldn’t be able to weather it. Certainly not with Nyzar’s strength and skill. So when he rallied for a moment and swung at her she ducked under, driving a stab at his thigh which he just managed to parry. Then she pivoted and drove the heavy hilt straight into his core.

With a wheezing groan, Nyzar went down. “Nicely done,” he managed, groaning. Then he raised his eyes to hers. “But my point still stands. The battlefield’s not a pit.” He raised an eyebrow. “And the First Order doesn’t take turns.”

Rey sensed movement behind her and wheeled around to find Kuoma, coming at her with his staff. No chance to take the initiative for herself - he put her on the defensive and just kept coming, tormenting her screaming muscles. He was one of the fastest Scrappers, and now the weight of the saber really told against her. She found herself flinching, trying to evade attacks rather than block them, barely catching the blows when she did parry. And then Kuoma stepped past her, planting his heel in the back of her knee, and Rey found herself falling forward.

Her bark of anger earned her a mouthful of grass and dirt. And now the pain she'd shunted to the back of her mind flooded her limbs, which had gone to rubber. She rolled over awkwardly, spitting and groaning, to find Kuoma offering her a hand up.

“Urgh,” she responded, finding she couldn’t even raise a hand to decline. “I… thugh.” She spat out another gobbet of grass and soil. “Need a moment.”

“Have this at least.” Kuoma crouched down to hand her a bottle of water. “I only ask you clean it before you get it back to me.”

Rey laughed a little at that. Kuoma’s meekness, born of his old life as a novice, had never left him. It stuck out like a sore thumb among the Scrappers. She awkwardly raised the bottle to her mouth, took a swig and spat again, trying to rinse the iron tang of the soil from her mouth. Then she turned to Nyzar, who’d managed to get himself sat up and was trying not to look amused. “Point taken, Nyzar.”

But the simmering anger she felt wasn’t all that easy to shrug off. It hung over her through watching the rest of the session, and then a near-scalding shower. It was still very much there when Kaydel came to her cabin with some details on the coming mission. She knocked and entered to find Rey, wrapped in a towel, sat on the bed and glaring at the saber.

She’d been there for a good half-hour. After all this time pouring over the old texts about saber construction and wondering if she’d ever be able to get herself a Kyber crystal and build her own, contemplating a staff-saber, she’d thought she had a shortcut. A saber, ready for her to take up. But she just couldn’t wield the damn thing properly.

“Hey,” Kaydel said. “Still hurting?” Rey looked up at her in puzzlement, wondering how she knew. Kaydel shrugged apologetically. “I bumped into Finn and he told me.”

Rey groaned, letting her head slump forward. “Does everyone know?”

“You _were_ practicing out in a field.” Kaydel squeezed her shoulder a little and saw Rey wince. “You haven’t put anything on those arms, have you?” She sighed. “Rey…”

Watching Kaydel potter around the cabin brought a little smile back to Rey’s face, as her friend dug out a tube of soothing gel and insisted on massaging it into her arms and shoulders. She tried to ignore how good the other woman’s hands felt and insisted to herself that it was just the gel.

“You’ve gotta take better care of yourself than this. Now,” Kaydel drummed a little on Rey’s shoulders. “Better now?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“And you’re feeling ready to talk?” Kaydel sat down next to her. 

Rey bristled at that. “What’s to talk about?”

Kaydel motioned at the saber. “It’s ticking you off. I knew you’d be eyeballing it before I walked in.”

That knowing smile, normally so endearing, made Rey glower at her. She _didn’t_ know, damn her. “ _It’s_ not ticking me off, _I_ can’t get to grips with it.”

Kaydel remained infuriatingly reasonable. “So it doesn’t fit you. That’s a pain, but-”

“Our people nearly died for it!” Rey exploded. Kaydel rocked back, eyes wide, but Rey didn’t hold back. “We went out to the middle of kriffing nowhere and dug around in a pile of old bones for this…” she shook her hand at the saber “…hunk of metal. We almost got ourselves killed to get it, and I can’t use the thing properly!”

Kaydel took a breath. “OK, I get that.”

“Do you?” Rey was right up in her face now. A voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to back down, but her frustration and fear had all come boiling up and she couldn’t stop it. “Do you know how much is riding on this? Do you understand _a single bloody iota_ of what I’m carrying here?”

“Maybe not, but if you keep shouting, I can’t.” She hadn’t expected that. Kaydel met her gaze evenly, with a certain steeliness in her eyes, and it was like a blaze hitting a firebreak. Rey’s anger abruptly lost its potency. Suddenly she felt unsteady, embarrassed. All the more so when Kaydel laid a hand on her bare shoulder. “So help me understand, Rey. Please.”

She took a breath. Where to start? She looked away. “I’m… expected to carry a legacy that I’ve only known at second hand, and I’m only now realising what that actually means. I’m picking through the past, trying to make sense of where I fit into all this…” _I need someone to show me my place. I still do._

Two years ago, in the moment, she’d felt like she had some kind of resolution back on the _Supremacy_. Newfound comradeship within the Resistance had seemed to cement it. Over the following months, however, she had begun to understand that accepting her origins wasn’t the same as actually grappling with them. And it had hung over her ever since.

“I feel,” she continued, “alone. You’re right about that – it’s even when I’m surrounded by my friends. Being a part of the Resistance, it’s not enough.” Kaydel’s face fell, and she immediately regretted her words. “I said that badly, it’s nothing any of you’ve said or done. It’s…” she put her head in her hands.

“Don’t rush it,” Kaydel murmured.

Rey raised her head to look at Kaydel again, and found her hands grasping at air. “I haven’t got Luke any more. I’ve gone two years without a real teacher. I’m alone… in the Force.”

“You’re forgetting Finn.”

“But he’s only just begun. I don’t know how quickly he’ll learn, and I’m not quite sure how to instruct him.” A pupil was no substitute for a tutor. “There’s no one around who’s more immersed in the Force than me. Except for _him_.” She struggled to even say that name anymore.

“Ren?” She nodded reluctantly, and Kaydel tilted her head a little. “And that’s why the saber thing matters so much, right?”

_It’s like you see through me_.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I feel outmatched. It’s more than the saber. He’s got his Knights, he’s steeped in teachings and legacy, while I’m… just a girl from nowhere, who’s expected to live up to Luke Skywalker’s legend. I haven’t got anyone to teach me and I’m trying to pick the right lessons from old books.” 

“But that’s coming on OK, isn’t it?”

She made a noncommittal sound. 

Kaydel pressed on nonetheless. “You’ve talked about how Luke viewed the old Order and its mistakes, so if you’re trying to find what’s worth keeping and what should change, I think you have the right idea. In the same way,” she reached out and tapped a finger on the lightsaber, “you shouldn’t be cutting yourself up because some old Jedi’s weapon isn’t right for you. Give this one to Finn – if he’s gonna be a Jedi then he’ll need one too, no?” She punched Rey very lightly on the shoulder, and Rey nodded. “We’ll get you the parts you need soon, hunt down a Kyber crystal, and then you’ll have a lightsaber that’s better for you than any old relic. Because it’ll be _your_ saber, and no one else’s.”

She smiled, in that way that Rey would have to fight not to return. Even if the nagging thought surfaced in her mind that the First Order controlled most of the known Kyber sources, and the rest lay in outlaw space.

“Sorry I yelled at you like that, Kaydel – and thanks.”

“It’s alright. You’ve done the same for me, remember?”

She looked down at her lap. “I should probably pull some clothes on.”

Kaydel shrugged. “Or you could come to dinner in a towel.” Her eyebrows darted upwards. “I’m sure people would enjoy that.” Her tone suggested that she might, Rey thought.

She laughed as Kaydel made for the door. But the doubt was still sitting there, just like the saber. And this knock to her confidence had come at the worst time, right before their next mission.

She spoke before she could think better of it: “Kaydel?” Kaydel, her hand halfway to the door switch, turned but said nothing. “Is that bunk still going spare?”

A small smile crept across Kaydel’s face. “Yeah, the offer still stands.”


	15. Reunion

Rey took Kaydel up on the offer. And she was glad of it, to get away from the sabers and the old texts for a night. Through dinner she let the others talk, sinking into the conversation around her. Afterwards, she spotted Poe watching as she followed Kaydel away into the tunnels, and saw a little smile playing on his face.

Kaydel’s room had a cool, mossy fragrance, and even her gentle snoring on the bunk below Rey’s made a pleasant change from the Falcon’s rattle and hum. For the first time in many months, it was easy to drift off without being physically worn out.

But in a dream, she found herself wandering through shadowed tunnels. Something glimmered far off in the gloom, too faint for her to even see its colour. She pressed on, into the dark, chasing the light.

Vapours dragged at her heels as she entered a great, open chamber. It was dark and thick as smoke, rising to waist-height and then further. Then shapes began to move in the murk. Figures, drawing closer. Emerging from the vapours – no, forming from them. Featureless, seemingly unaware of her.

She found herself surrounded by the phantoms, and found that suddenly they were moving toward the distant light. They walked in lockstep, shadow-figures looming over her. Rey moved out of time with them. She tried to match their pace but with every attempt, the rhythm of the phantom crowd seemed to change.

The glow seemed no closer. She broke into a run and now she found herself closing the distance, but the shadowy forms around her came apart. They became vapour, which billowed out before coalescing and engulfing her as an impenetrable black cloud. She couldn’t see. She was alone in the smothering dark.

For a brief time, she held still. And then, the remnants of the old Force bond flickered to life. She felt _him_.

At first it seemed like another part of the dream, but the images came in a staccato flicker that marked them out as something inescapably _other_. Glimpses, fragments, and Kylo Ren at the heart of them all. Surrounded by other figures in black, whom she recognised as the Knights of Ren.

And suddenly she was _there_ , watching him.

He was different now, helmed and armoured like his grim retinue. A city burned around the Supreme Leader. Rey saw him and the Knights fighting and killing amid elegant facades, gardens and fountains.

_Theed_ , some barely-heard voice told her. It beat through her, sub-sonic. _This is Theed City_.

The black-clad warriors moved and slew almost as one, a pack of hunting beasts held in lockstep by the alpha predator. The Dark Side flowed through their every movement, raw and hot as blood.

Ren paused in a part of the city that had flooded. There were corpses in the knee-deep water. One almost caught at Rey’s shorts and she shivered.

She didn’t feel anything, though. The water should be cold, the air oppressive with the heat and smoke. But she was a ghost here.

Rey watched Ren and his warriors, finding herself beside a colonnaded passage. The water was around her thighs too, yet the strange _distance_ between her and Ren, the absence of sensation, seemed to give her some shelter.

Right up until he turned and looked her dead in the eye, just as he had in her vision on Takodana two years ago.

“Rey.”

The word reverberated as if it were thunder, or the impact of distant artillery. She stumbled back into the shadows of the colonnade.

“It’s been a while,” he murmured, his voice seeming to carry from a great distance.

She retreated further and he followed, raising his free hand to his helmet. With a hiss, parts of the faceplate retracted, pulling away from his eyes and mouth. What she could see of the face beneath was different too, even disregarding the beard. The taint of the Dark Side showed clearly in his pale skin, making the old scar stand out even more.

Either he didn’t see the look of revulsion on her face, or he ignored it. His eyes stayed on her, his tone remained conversational. “You’re still wearing your hair down – it suits you. The Resistance is treating you well?”

“Better than the First Order ever did,” she snapped back. She moved away, but he was still there. So too were the Knights, keeping pace towards the edge of her vision, apparently just as aware of her as Ren was.

“So certain.” She felt a faint flicker of amusement from him then. “You could have ruled it, and seen how it treated you then. I would have set you on a throne beside mine. Had you taken my hand that day, we’d have a Galaxy free of obstacles-”

“Do you even hear yourself?” she snapped. “The _obstacles_ you refer to were people. My people.”

“Ah, yes. Your people from nowhere.” That mocking, superior tone was back in his voice. “The family you’ve embedded yourself into, on whose shoulders you stand because without them, you’re still nothing. But I see past it. Part of you is now more alone than ever.”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t acknowledge the tenderness in his voice, which was all the more loathsome because she knew it was sincere.

“I know what you’re trying to carry, better than anyone else. Skywalker taught me once, remember?” Something was burning behind Ren, casting his features into shadow. “The legacy of the Jedi will only crush you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And you do, Rey from nowhere? The Jedi with no saber, the apprentice with no master?” He moved closer, and she retreated into the deepest shadows. “This is the choice for all of our kind, the one that really matters. You can be the master, or a subject.”

“And that’s why you sent the Vesprid after us.” No retort came. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“I thought Hux had been lax. It seemed worth reminding you that we had unfinished business. And if you’re truly set against me… Well, I’d be remiss if I left a threat unresolved.”

Falling ash settled on the water around Rey. It left her untouched. “So it’s all a matter of power for you now.” She resisted the temptation to turn back and face him, forced a level tone into her voice. “But then it always was, wasn’t it Ben? Even when I was on Ach-To, you were exploiting me, using me to get your way.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw he was gaining. “I thought there was a lost boy underneath the monster, back then. That I could tunnel in, take Ben Solo by the hand and lead him out. But in the end, I realised that Kylo Ren and Ben Solo were one and the same.” He said nothing. “You still just want to dominate.”

He drew level with her. “It’s a matter of survival.” She could see the detail of his armour when she glanced, black and silver under his cloak. He looked altogether much harder and older now, with the beard and the changes to his face. “What do you think would have happened after Crait?” It wasn’t so much scorn in his voice as honest disbelief. “You think that even with a pardon, I could’ve breathed freely?” He shook his head. “There’d always be someone waiting around a corner, with a blaster or a blade.”

“You can’t know that.”

“And yet I do. The Resistance aren’t saints, and your friends the traitor and the thief have their own grudges, for a start.” There was the hint of a smirk, on the scarred side of his face she could see under the beard and the shadow of his helmet. “Would you even want me to come back now? Perhaps you do. But… _ah_ ,” In that moment, he seemed to loom larger, cast a deeper shadow. “There’s someone else now, isn’t there?”

Rey jolted upright, clutching the sheets to herself and breathing hard. She was drenched in sweat, and it took a few moments for the darkness around her to resolve into the billet. It took longer for her to feel sure that Kylo Ren wasn’t there in the room with her. Traces of smoke and blood lingered in her nostrils.

“Hey,” came Kaydel’s voice from hip-height, and Rey started. Kaydel had pulled herself up to the top bunk, resting her chin on the rail. Concern marked her face. “You alright?”

Rey let out a long breath, and realised her hands were shaking. “I saw Ren. The old link, it flared up tonight.”

“Did he… see you?” Kaydel caught the look on her face, and her eyes widened. “Grief, Rey, are you OK?”

Rey bit her lip. “I’d love to lie and say yes.”

“But…”

She was reluctant to say it. “But now I know for certain that he’s hunting me again.”

Kaydel reached up and took hold of her arm. “Only ‘til we stop him, right? Because we’re going to.” She paused. “Think you’ll be able to sleep?”

Rey placed her free hand over Kaydel’s. She was still shaking. “I...”

Before she could say anything else, Kaydel had clambered up onto the bunk with her. “Then I’m not going anywhere until you are, OK?”

Part of Rey rebelled at that, wanted to flee the room and get back to the Falcon, to solitude. The rest of her responded that if Kylo Ren was hunting her in earnest, would it really hurt to roll the dice? Or at least to enjoy some sort of intimacy, if Kaydel wanted to comfort her. And in all honesty, Rey realised that she _wanted_ to be comforted right now.

The second argument won out. “OK.”

She managed to relax just a little, and let Kaydel coax her down and nestle close to her, draping an arm across Rey’s front. “You’re not in this alone.”

Rey gingerly responded, reaching out to encircle Kaydel’s shoulders. She was soft, and so warm. Rey‘s breathing slowed, falling into sync with the other woman’s. She sank into the embrace, pulling Kaydel closer and putting her forehead against hers.

“I’m here for you, Rey.” There, with Kaydel’s head resting gently on her shoulder, Rey eventually managed to drift off again.

In ash-shrouded Theed, Kylo Ren stalked between the columns, thinking hard. His saber dragged in the water, drawing up a trail of steam.


	16. Junkyard

Even with goggles and a rebreather, Finn found Raxus Prime almost intolerable. An ugly brown haze hung over the mountains – mountains which were made up entirely of scrap – and the rancid yellow seas of plasma. According to the archives there was rock and earth somewhere under all this mess, but Finn hadn’t seen any yet.

“Gotta hand it to you, Rey,” he said, seeing her coming down the ramp. “Jakku seems a lot less of a junkyard after seeing this place.”

Rey nodded. He could see the grimace even through her goggles. “That spy had better be right.”

“Chewie coming with us?”

She shook her head. “Poe’s request.”

“Damn right,” Poe said, joining them. He’d left his X-Wing aboard the _Rapscallion_ , and like them he was wearing flak armour under his overcoat. “We’ll have to quit this place in a hurry if the First Order come calling, so I want pilots on every transport. On that note,” he called. “Squads Six, Eight, Eleven, you’re on guard duty. Get yourselves dug in, comfy but not too comfy.”

“I don’t think there’s any danger of that happening here,” Rose remarked.

The allotted units picked out positions around the landing sites.

“Everyone else, we’re after an old customised U-Wing carrier, carrying a concealed stash of datasticks. Hopefully the pilot too, but on a world like this I’m not optimistic. We’ve got a long-range fix on the ship, somewhere in that,” he gestured to the nearest mountain of scrap, “and BB-8 will provide tracking duties closer to the target.”

“Then may I ask,” C-3PO interjected, “why I have been dragged along to this quite appalling wasteland?” The gleaming protocol droid had never seemed more out of place.

Behind his rebreather, Poe was plainly smiling. “Six million languages, pal. In case we find some junkers besides ourselves.” He turned back to the troops.

Three companies had landed with them, roughly a hundred troops each. One would stay with the ships, but the other two would be moving out under Finn and Poe’s split command while Rey and the Scrappers formed a much smaller third group.

Finn had been assigned Rancor Company. He was glad to have them – they were good fighters and had served him well in a number of recent actions. In particular, they were used to fighting in rough terrain and confined spaces, and Raxus Prime had plenty of both.

The sentries had already begun to pick positions and set up portable heavy weapons. Black and Blue Squadrons would also be keeping watch, ready to take off and engage any aerial threats.

As Poe rounded off the briefing, and the squads formed up, Finn saw Rey approach Kaydel. “Kaydes, are you sure you want in on this one? It’s going to be a slog.”

“I’m sure. If we’re going into one of those warrens, we’ll need someone coordinating our squads.”

As a precaution, Maz had ordered most of their fleet to move out of the system, leaving only the corvette _Wayfarer_ which had itself moved further out. If the First Order arrived it should escape notice, but this left them limited in their ability to communicate and coordinate their movements. Hence Kaydel being on the ground, and not staying aboard the Falcon. Comms personal on the gunships would triangulate between them and the _Wayfarer_ , Finn assumed.

Rey didn’t appear entirely convinced, though she kept her voice low and quiet. “That sounds more like what Poe wants, but if you say so.” She took a hold of Kaydel’s arm, and Finn noted she'd donned her gauntlets this time. “Just… stay safe, won’t you?”

Kaydel’s head bobbed. “I’ll be with Rose, in among the main force. You do the same, right?” Rey nodded at that, at least a little reassured. Then she seemed to realise how long she’d been holding the other woman’s arm and let go. Not before squeezing it, Finn noted.

Rose elbowed him. “Don’t be nosy.” He gave her a chastened look and pretended to be fascinated by his blaster.

“Let’s move out!” Poe rounded off. “Rose and Finn, you’re with me. Finn, take two squads and make for the main causeway. Rey, I want you and the Scrappers on the high ground.”

“On it,” Finn replied. He clapped a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “See you on the other side.”

“Will do. And you look after that,” she gestured to the lightsaber at his belt. Then she was off, leading the Scrappers at a brisk pace over the wreckage.

Finn felt the weight of the weapon on his hip as he walked. Rey had handed it to him after her struggles to wield it effectively, and fortunately it seemed to fit his hands better than it had hers. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to use it today.

The scrap mountain was connected to their island by a series of causeways, leading into gaping black holes in the metal. Some of them looked like they’d been deliberately raised or cleared of obstacles, others quite accidental and difficult to traverse. Subsonic scans by the droids declared them all safe to traverse, but the troops still went quickly and quietly, he and Finn pacing along at the head of their respective squads. On the threshold of his tunnel Finn glanced up, seeing the Scrappers heading up the shoulder of the mountain.

“Kuoma’s seen movement above us,” her voice crackled in his headset. “Scavenger parties. Don’t think they’ve spotted us and it looks like they’re back inside now, but you’re likely to be pretty visible down there.”

“Noted,” Poe said. “So we assume there are more inside?”

“Yeah. Do your best to come in peace,” Rey advised. “But we might need to get rough. Scavenger gangs aren’t known for playing nice.”

“We know,” Finn said gently. “We’ve heard your stories.” Then he ducked into the dark.

Metal rose up around him, compacted into awkward, irregular passages. The tunnels were often cramped, winding and often uneven underfoot, though the troops following him managed to keep reasonably quiet.

“Got anything, buddy?” Poe asked over the radio. He’d be somewhere off to the right, if Finn’s locator console was telling the truth.

“Nothing yet.” Finn went from corner to corner, blaster up. BB-8 followed with impressive precision, his shock-prod ready, and Finn smiled despite himself at the way the little droid imitated him. “Rey still got a link to the blockade runner?” Long-range signal, under this much metal and around a great deal of half-functioning tech, was likely to be weak, so they were reliant on Rey for that.

“I’ll get her to confirm,” Kaydel said.

“Hopefully her guys are almost in position too.” BB-8 warbled quietly – they were getting close.

Finn moved further ahead, seeing the light increasing. Then he heard voices, harsh and in a language he didn’t speak. Approaching the final corner, he held up a hand to halt the rest. Then, slowly and carefully, he snuck a peek around the corner.

There was a cavern of rust ahead, and it was full of people. A rag-tag ensemble, most of them clad in patchwork armour. Heavyset and heavily armed seemed to be the theme too, at a glance. All of them on high alert.

The Resistance could take them, despite the scavengers’ advantageous position. Finn’s squad could come out throwing grenades and then scatter, moving fast to find new cover. Poe’s squad would deploy under the cover of that confusion. Rey and the Scrappers would find a way in and penetrate the structure from above. Between the three units, they could clear the chamber in under a minute.

But they weren’t here to pick fights with the locals. Apart from the obvious dangers, if you played nice then people were much less likely to shop you to the First Order. So Finn pulled away and leaned against the metal, opening the channel again.

Poe beat him to it. “We have company, then?”

“With a lot of guns. In the big chamber, and it looks like they’re expecting us.” A quick scans revealed other openings at ground level. He signalled to the soldiers behind him, directing squads to peel off and find firing angles. Then he eyed the roof and the upper levels, noting signs of light from the exterior. “Rey, looks like there should be a vantage up above. You’ll wanna find a way in. Commander, you there yet?”

“Am now.” A pause. “Damnit,” Poe sighed. “I guess it’s time to be diplomatic. Kaydel, are the Scrappers copied in?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now get yourself and Threepio up here.”

Rey, up on the shoulder of the mountain and listening in on that exchange, was not best pleased. She opened a one-to-one link on her radio. “Poe, I mean Commander…”

“She’ll be fine, Rey.”

“Not if they start shooting.”

“Which is why you’re up there. You’ve got a visual, right?”

“Tannel’s found a tunnel which should lead in… yeah. Give us a moment.” She dropped to crawl on her elbows and knees, pistol in one hand and staff in the other. It was an awkward shuffle, the metal under her alternately smooth and lumpen. Occasionally her helmet knocked against a protruding bit of metal, making her swear and Kir’ii laugh up ahead – at least until a grunt and a faint yelp told her that Olesin had tired of it and elbowed her. He had a limited tolerance for anyone making noise in situations like this.

After half a minute, however, she found a ledge and a space between Nyzar and Tannel. Olesin was already staring down the scope of his rifle. She poked her head over the lip and spoke again into the radio. “I can see the chamber now and I like your idea even less.”

“I’m afraid I don’t need you to like it, Captain,” Poe said, not unkindly. “They’re coming out now.”

“Hello!”

Kaydel heard the whine and hum of blasters charging up and immediately, C-3PO said what she was thinking. “That may not have been the optimum way to open negotiations.”

She heard rough voices around the corner, speaking in languages she didn’t know. She pulled off her rebreather and scowled at the droid. “Come on.”

They came out with their hands up, and found themselves staring down the barrels of three dozen guns.

“Greetings,” Threepio managed without too much stuttering. Despite Kaydel’s own nerves, she managed to be impressed by that. “I am C-3PO, human-cyborg-”

He was drowned out by a lengthy growl from a big Rodian with a scale-mail cloak.

“Hmm,” he said to Kaydel. “The big fellow says I’m the prettiest piece of metal he’s seen in years.” That notion only made him more tremulous.

She ignored him. _Steel your nerves. Remember what Leia would do. Make Rey proud._ She pulled herself up to her full height, though the Rodian was still a head and a half taller than her. “I’m Lieutenant Kaydel Ko Connix of the Resistance,” Kaydel announced herself, indicating the large Rodian as the droid translated. “I take it you’re the one in charge?”

More growling. She turned to Threepio. “He is Hret Guular, chieftain of the Blackhammer Clan, and he wishes to know why we have come to this place. I am given to understand that Chieftain Guular does not, as a rule, permit others to hunt on his territory.”

Kaydel risked a glance at the shadowy corner where Poe stood, and he nodded.

“We’re looking for a U-Wing carrier, custom model.” Guular twitched momentarily at that – he tried to hide it, but that was all Kaydel needed to see. “It was piloted by one of our operatives and carrying a parcel of data-sticks. We’re willing to barter for those – especially the pilot if you’re got him.”

Guular snorted and muttered something.

“Ah, we won’t want to pay for the pilot,” Threepio clarified. “The Chieftain here says his bones were picked clean some time before the scavengers arrived. Beastly world,” he added. Kaydel was inclined to agree. "However, he says that if we want to discuss the haul then we may have better luck-”

Guular cut across Threepio, brandishing the big club in his hand. Then Kaydel realised it was actually a very large, plasma-firing blunderbuss. From its appearance, someone had fashioned it from some of the junk here. As such it looked pretty crude, but she was prepared to bet it packed a mean punch.

“Although,” Threepio said, “a scavenger chief doesn’t bargain with anyone lower than a fellow crew leader.” He turned slightly. “Ah, Commander?”

But Poe was already stepping out into the open, holstering his blaster and pulling his rebreather away from his face. A dozen guns turned to him regardless.

Poe hesitated for a moment, but he met them with a raised eyebrow. “Good afternoon. I’m Commander Poe Dameron and I’d just like to make it clear that shooting me would be really bad business.” He gave Kaydel a reassuring wink. She tried to look like it had worked. “I’m sure you’ve twigged we’ve got more people back there, but we’ve also got some up top, with a bead on you.”

A single red dot appeared in the centre of Guular’s forehead, and a murmur ran through the chamber. Poe paused, watching the scavengers digest this information. “And just in case you need persuading further, one of them’s a Jedi. So really, the wise thing would be to cut a deal.”

Threepio duly interpreted that last line and for a few seconds there was only silence.

It was broken by Guular’s laugh, which managed to both crack and gurgle. Poe and Kaydel exchanged a worried look, and Poe muttered “Rey’s probably got her gun trained on me right now.”

Kaydel didn’t have time to dispute that as Threepio translated again. “Ah! Commander Dameron, he says he likes you. You have a ‘scav’s nose for business’, he declares.” Kaydel and Poe breathed again, trying not to look too relieved.

Guular turned and bellowed at a small crew member, who scuttled off into the shadows. Then he turned back to Poe.

“Alright,” Poe said with a smile, “now’s the time to haggle.”


	17. Noose

Hyperspace fell away, and the _Unremitting_ and its escorts entered the Raxus system. Swiftly, they moved toward the largest planet.

Hux regarded the drab lump of a world, not bothering to hide his disdain. Scrapworlds had their uses – Raxus Prime had served the Empire’s appetite for metal in the past and would do so for the First Order once they could establish a permanent presence here – but that didn’t make them any more pleasing to the eye.

Nonetheless, their search and Torqueda’s investigations suggested that this world held a clue to the _Vehement_ ’s location. Hux would deploy his Stormtroopers to scour the wretched world and locate anything which might be of use. Anything which stood in their way would be destroyed. And all hopefully without Hux himself having to set foot on Raxus Prime.

He reviewed his flotilla and was satisfied with what the holos told him. Nothing out of order.

“Run scans on the surface and surrounding space,” he ordered. “But I want surveillance flights in the atmosphere in addition to that.” He thought for a moment. “And fighter and bomber wings ready to scramble. Transports too.”

One of the cruisers moved forward, turning its sensor array on the planet below.

Gwaelyn broke from her meandering progress around the bridge and approached him. Still that strut. “We will go to our transport, in anticipation of something being found.”

_Finally_. He nodded curtly, and the two Knights took their leave.

The air pressure on the bridge seemed to drop a little now. Once again, it was his territory, and indeed most of his officers seemed to relax a little. Hux was content to enjoy it for a few minutes, watching TIE fighters circuit the Star Destroyers while other squadrons peeled off, entering the atmosphere.

This was the clockwork precision which he strove to create. The Imperial dream in all its austere virtue; total clarity of purpose, flawless discipline. The perfection which he would restore to the First Order soon enough.

Stolan approached. “A division is ready for planetfall. Do you wish vehicles allocated to the strike force as well?”

“Scout walkers. Give them some of the new UA-TTs. They’re the only new technology Ren trusted us with,” he muttered. “We might as well try them out.” Besides, tracked vehicles and larger walkers would only struggle on such unstable terrain. Hux wouldn’t risk them unnecessarily.

Stolan dipped his chin and relayed the order to a subordinate. “Lieutenant! See it done.” The bridge crew all treated Stolan with well-deserved apprehension. Another reason for Hux to be pleased with his new right hand.

Hux nodded approvingly, then turned to the surveillance officers. “Any signs of our prey?”

“We have something, General. Sixty-second latitude, hundred and third longitude. A surveillance flight is inbound now, but the scans indicate a number of landed craft.”

“That’s got to be them,” Hux said. “They’re looking for something here – not the _Vehement_ itself, but some clue to its location.” He turned to Stolan. “Deploy a planetstrike force, Fifteenth and Ninth divisions.”

“At once, sir.” Stolan had none of old Peavey’s hesitance in these matters. No, the colonel shared Hux’s zeal for crushing an enemy as soon as they were found.

Transports took wing from the _Unremitting_ and other ships, flocked by TIE Fighters. Hux watched them vanish into the distance with cold satisfaction. Ren really should have attended to this himself. As it was, the glory of purging the defect would go to Hux, and any blot on his reputation would be wiped away. That would not go unnoticed by the commanders and governors within the First Order who had not yet picked a side in the struggle to come. And for those who couldn’t see that conflict looming on the horizon… well, it would make it easier for them to pick the correct side when it did come.

But pleasant reflections, it seemed, were not a luxury he was permitted to savour today. A communications officer raised his voice nervously. “General, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is making contact from his flagship.”

It wouldn’t do to stall. Certainly not if he was seen to do so. “Very well. Accept the transmission.”

Every chin in the bridge snapped up, fists rising up in salute. Hux suppressed a look of distaste and saluted as Ren’s hologram materialised at the centre of the bridge.

The Supreme Leader still wore his heavy armour, helmet held in the crook of his arm. His free hand rested on the hilt of his lightsaber. _All so monstrously unsubtle, which is to say so very true to yourself, Supreme Leader._ Ren carried himself not as a wise ruler or a dispassionate, calculating general, but instead leaned shamelessly into the aspect of a bloody-handed warlord. The First Order, Hux had always believed, should aspire to move past such things.

Again, Ren was the first to speak. “General Hux, I trust the hunt is proceeding smoothly?”

It really was quite something, how Ren could make Hux feel his breath down the back of his neck from half the Galaxy away. “It is ongoing, Supreme Leader, but our search of Raxus Prime has turned something up. Your Knights will lead operations on the surface. And if I may enquire as to your campaign?”

“Our victory on Naboo is complete and my fleet has begun the attack on Kreelin. You can expect my arrival within the next two days. I wish to see the mutineers dead myself – or their leaders in custody, should you locate them by then.” Hux smarted inwardly at the scepticism in Ren’s voice. “If you do, I’m sure you won’t hesitate to carry out their sentence.”

Hux bowed. “I will of course keep you apprised. Far be it from me, however, to detain you any further, when glorious battle awaits.”

A fleeting look of amusement moved across the scarred, bearded face. It occurred to Hux that Ren was just as tired of keeping up this tedious charade of respect as Hux himself was. “Good hunting, General.”

Stolan pulled a face once the image had blinked out. In a low voice he added, “I look forward to being shot of him.”

“Soon, Colonel,” Hux replied. “But now, let us gut these criminals.”

Lieutenant Gannylt felt oddly bereft when the hologram of Hux blinked out. Suddenly the malevolent presence of the Supreme Leader loomed larger again, seemingly reflected by the smoke-wreathed surface of Naboo. The verdant surface was largely invisible, and here and there you could see the light of great fires.

Not that Hux knew exactly who Gannylt was yet, of course. Or any of the junior officers who Torqueda had placed aboard the _Subjugator_. That was for reasons of deniability and besides, they would ordinarily be far below the notice of a general.

Which was the point; they were all young men who had been identified as having ambition and drive to serve true order, low-ranked enough that they wouldn’t draw attention. Torqueda had recognised that they had what it took to undo the current, lamentable state of affairs. The High Inquisitor’s own recorded message had told Gannylt as much, before it deleted itself.

There hadn’t been any word from Hauma yet. Minimal contact was vital to preserve secrecy, and Gannylt tried not to let his gaze linger on the holo of the _Severity_ , Hauma’s Star Destroyer.

It was risky, and a large part of him hoped that they wouldn’t be called upon to confront the Supreme Leader. That couldn’t be Hux or Torqueda’s intent, surely. They were smarter than that, would have more cunning strategies drawn up.

But if they did their duty when the order came… the potential rewards. They could have fleets, worlds, unimaginable wealth. All the power they wanted, with the favour of a new Supreme Leader.

He tried not to let any of that show on his face, keeping his expression bland as he listened to Ren and Pryde.

“My opposite number might be driven to recklessness by that opportunity, Supreme Leader,” Pryde was saying. “To secure the glory for himself.”

“He is a rabid cur,” Ren replied, seeming to recall the words from long ago. “You don’t keep a creature like that close to you – you set him loose to savage your quarry, and keep him busy enough that he doesn’t get ideas about biting you.” He turned fractionally, seeming to hear a question which Pryde didn’t ask aloud. “Should Hux overreach, his will be an acceptable loss.”

Such arrogance. Gannylt turned back to the viewport, lest the smile show on his face and draw attention. _The general’s reach is greater than you imagine, oh Supreme Leader._

Up on her ledge, Rey had relaxed a little, now that fighting wasn’t about to break out down below. Leaving her squad in position, she turned away and crawled back into the hazy sunlight.

Her radio crackled. “Bet you hated that,” came Finn’s voice. There was a teasing edge to the words, gentle but still enough to rile her.

“I could…” she decided not to say that she could have shot her own commander. “I could kick him for putting her out there.”

She could almost hear Finn shaking his head. “Not sure being a Jedi would let you get away with that. Besides, Kaydel’s Comms, Rey. It goes with the territory."

“That's quite a loose interpretation of 'communications'," she responded.

He sounded downright amused now. “ _Very_ protective. So something did happen last night, huh?”

“That’s really none of your business.”

“Hey, I just wanna be the first to congatul-”

Her earpiece chirped. “Gotta go, the _Wayfarer_ ’s making contact.” Finn grunted in a way that said _well that's convenient_. She ignored him and switched channels. “Scrapper One.”

“Captain, a First Order fleet just jumped into orbit. They haven’t detected us out here, but they’re launching reconnaissance flights.”

Rey grimaced, scanning the sky instinctively before moving back to her squad. There’d be no eluding scrutiny from orbit. “Then transports won’t be far behind. Have you signalled the fleet?”

“Of course. They’re inbound, but you need to start moving.”

Then Rey heard the telltale scream of engines. She looked up and saw ten specks, high up but growing with every moment. She raised her binoculars and gulped. There they were – ten Stormtrooper transports and a huge black slab of a bulk lander. The mere sight of it made her feel vaguely queasy. All were surrounded by TIE craft.

She switched comms channels again. “Finn.”


	18. Assault on Raxus Prime

“Deal!” Poe exclaimed, shaking hands with Guular as Finn rounded the corner – the small scavenger had returned with a bundle of data-sticks. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Poe and Kaydel turned to Finn cheerfully, but their smiles died at the look on his face.

“First Order?” Kaydel asked.

He nodded, and Threepio translated it without thinking.

“ _No!_ ” Poe and Finn shouted in unison. The droid at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Then they looked at one another, the same unwelcome question running through their minds; would the junkers sell them out to the enemy?

Poe stepped forward with the agreed stack of credits. “Chief Guular, you need to know that the info we’re after relates to deserting Stormtroopers. Now you _could_ sell that to the First Order, but the second they realise that you might know, they’ll come back and burn you and this world to the bedrock, to keep that secret.”

“They’re coming from the east and expecting to find us,” Finn added. “You take tunnel routes away from this place, they shouldn’t realise you were even here.”

Guular took the credits, and for a moment they held their breaths. Then he motioned the little scavenger to hand over the data-sticks and growled something at Poe.

“He says he won’t forget this,” Threepio affirmed to Poe.

“Glad to hear it,” he replied, as the sound of distant engines reached them. He started running. “Now everybody, let’s go, this instant!”

Rey scrambled down the slope, seeing the gunships swoop down. She’d ducked back into the tunnel and ordered the Scrappers out. They were ahead of her, moving swiftly down to the foot of the mountain.

She had a clear view of what was quickly becoming their battlefield. The enemy had picked out two landing points around the mountain. Their bombing run against the Resistance’s site had failed, beaten off by the gunships and the fighters. But now they had Stormtroopers on the ground and moving out, aiming to cut off the causeways and push into the superstructure. Then Rey felt something else, two loathsome _presences_ in the Force.

She had a nasty suspicion about what that was.

“Got a bad feeling about this,” she muttered. Then she heard the howl of incoming TIE engines and looked skyward.

Tannel groaned. “You spoke too soon.”

Fighters and bombers swept in as gunfire and grenade bursts echoed up through the holes in the mountain’s metal skin.

“Finn!" She had to strain to make herself heard over the din. "What’s going on in there?”

Finn was struggling to cut through the sound of fighting. “Fighting retreat,” he grunted. “We’re going for the causeways, but we’ve got Stormtroopers in here too.” A crackle told her that he’d gone for his shock-baton. That wasn’t a good sign.

There was a fizzing blow and a scream. “Lots of Stormtroopers,” Finn resumed grimly.

Rey saw figures on the causeways. Resistance troops. “Poe’s out. Where are Rose and Kaydel?”

“I don’t see them!” She heard muffled cursing and more shots. “Tunnels are caving in, I think the enemy are trying to find another way round.” He was trying and failing to keep the worry out of his own voice. “Rey, can you-”

“I’ll try. Just let us get down there.”

Then Rey heard a distant boom, and an explosion rippled through the metal underfoot. She watched in horror as one of the causeways came apart, sending soldiers flying to plummet into the bile-yellow plasma. “Kriff! Finn you need to move, they’re bombing the bridges!”

She saw Poe at what had been the end of the bridge, leaning over and dragging a man up from the edge. Further off, Snap and Jess’ squadrons were rising into the air to engage the attackers.

“They’ve seen us!” Ki’rii shouted from a way down the slope. “Take cover!”

A second later a TIE Bomber dived on their position. Rey hurled herself into cover and balled up, throwing up a barrier around herself, just long enough to ward off the worst of the blast. Even so the impact shook her bones and made her vision swim. She stayed curled up, feeling shreds of metal ping off her armour. When she opened her eyes, she realised that one long splinter had stuck in a vambrace, still quivering from the impact.

She leapt out and found a gaping chasm in the metal, with no other clear way down – and the bomber coming back again. Reaching out with the Force, she grabbed a chunk of metal the size of her head and catapulted it into the craft’s wing joint. There was a loud bang. Suddenly short of a wing, the bomber spiralled away and out of sight.

Rey didn’t wait to hear the explosion, focusing on the lack of a way down the slope. Her Scrappers were staring up from below. Nyzar had started to move back up towards her.

“Go!” she barked, jabbing with her hand. Gritting her teeth, she leapt into the open hole, shimmying down a girder and then awkwardly clambering down until she found a gantry. Everything was smoke and firelight.

She followed the sounds of gunfire, kicking into a full sprint when she heard Kaydel and Rose’s voices. She unslung her staff and activated the shock-coils as she rounded a corner and found Stormtroopers. Weaving through their shots, she smashed into them and with a flurry of blows, left the squad sprawled along the passage.

The next squad heard her coming. She almost lost her head turning the next corner, ducking back and freezing against the wall as plasma bolts whipped past her face. She heard the crackle of shock-batons behind the constant barrage. They were getting closer, advancing up the tunnel. And any minute now, there’d be more coming from the other direction.

She needed to be calm. “The Force is with me, and I’m one with the Force,” she breathed.

Her hand went to her belt, pulling a flash-bang grenade free. Keeping the staff steady with the crook of her elbow, she reached up to her helmet with her other hand and pulled down the blast-visor, shutting out all sight. “The Force is with me, and I’m one with the Force.”

She let her breathing slow and reached out, letting the Force look for her, feeling the presences of the approaching Stormtroopers. “The Force is with me, and I am one-” she armed the flash-bang, pivoted, and lobbed it down the tunnel “-with the Force.”

The magnesium charge ignited. Pained yells immediately followed the detonation, followed by a panicked volley of shots. Rey waited it out before springing from cover and into the midst of the enemy. Feeling for them with the Force, she found them still staggering, blinded for a few moments.

The grenade had ten seconds to burn and she used it ruthlessly. One Riot Trooper, marked by the sound of his weapon, heard her approach and swung for her head. She caught it on her staff before pivoting and smashing it into his exposed shin. Another trooper came blindly for her, trying to bludgeon her with the stock of his blaster. He got the crackling point of her staff, full in the faceplate.

She raised the visor when she got around the next corner. The flash-bang was still going, but now she was seeing dead Resistance fighters in among the Stormtroopers. And in the distance... Kaydel and Rose's voices. She gritted her teeth and moved on.

Major Kesina, commanding the ground assault, had remained aboard his lander to orchestrate the assault, but his captains hadn’t been quite so fortunate. One of them stood with his retinue of Stormtroopers in the cavern where Poe and Guular had been negotiating, directing operations within the confines of the mountain. His guards were getting restless.

“The enemy are running, from what the comnet says,” one reported to his squadmates. “No sign of locals either.”

“Then they have what they came for,” growled one of the others. “We should be there, stopping them, killing those scum.”

None of them were pleased to be on security detail. They were among Hux’s finest, tested in many a fight. And they could hear the sounds of combat from deeper in - growing fainter as the Resistance withdrew.

“Orders,” said their sergeant. That was enough to end the matter. At least until the next grievance.

"Those new gunships of theirs are causing our lot trouble," a third trooper opined. "If not for those, we'd have crushed the landing site already."

"If the Supreme Leader had seen fit to give us some of the new Scythes," spat the first, "we still could. If only he and Hux-"

The second cut him off. "Hold up - and look sharp. It's the ghouls." He fairly growled the word.

Torlun and Gwaelyn Ren approached, weapons drawn. They seemed to suddenly coalesce from the shadows, stalking forth in that predatory way of theirs. The captain turned at their approach and saluted.

They didn't return it. Instead, Gwaelyn spoke a single word. “Report.”

“The opposition are withdrawing.”

“Then break off any search within the complex,” Torlun rasped. “They've located something. They wouldn't give up the field.” He was silent for a moment, deliberating. Then his head snapped back up. “It's with Dameron, I sense him here. I will intercept. Captain, your men will assault the landing sites - without delay.”

“At once, sir.” The captain turned to Gwaelyn, still looking uneasy. “And…”

Gwaelyn stepped away, her fingers flexing on the haft of her glaive. “She is here. The Scavenger.” Her charnel mask whipped around to face Torlun, and her next words came as a hiss. “My prey.”

“Then claim it. I have mine.” Torlun racked his handcannon, which whined with a build-up of power. “Hunt well, sister.”

The two Knights vanished into the dark.

Rey pelted down the tunnel, hammering her way through another enemy squad. Rose and Kaydel’s shouts were louder now, and led her into an open chamber. She risked a look, and her stomach lurched when she saw Kaydel and Rose below with half a beleaguered squad, pinned down by Stormtroopers.

They hadn’t spotted her. Well, that was fine by Rey.

She reached out with the Force, finding a weakness in a strut next to the Stormtroopers, and shoved. The metal buckled and twisted, and the Stormtroopers shouted out in alarm – but too late. The chunk of metal it had held up caved in on top of them.

Rey leapt down to land catlike in front of the others, seeing relieved grins break out across their faces. But there was no time to celebrate yet. “Let’s go.”

Then she heard an electronic bleat, and turned to see a single white-armoured hand sticking out from under the heap of metal. It was still holding a thermal detonator.

An active thermal detonator.

On a countdown.

“ _Move!_ ” she screamed, and threw up another barrier with the Force. It spared them the blast, but the structure around them wasn’t so lucky. A horrible groan rippled through the metal. Rey turned to the others. This time she didn’t need to tell anyone to flee.

Her reckless ploy with the strut had laid the ground perfectly for an avalanche of scrap, and the walls of the tunnel itself buckled and cracked around them as they fled. They barely made it into the next chamber as the tunnel collapsed behind them. They were almost out, though. Almost.

“Finn,” she radioed. “I’ve got them.”

“Doesn’t count ‘til we get back to the ships. Move, Rey!”

He had a point. They also had to hope that Snap and Jess’s squadrons were prevailing in the air, otherwise they’d never make it offworld. But more immediately, one of those dark, caustic presences was there again, stronger now. Closer.

As they emerged into another cavern, she realised it was above them. A black-clad figure leapt from the shadows, a vibro-blade suddenly crackling into blood-red life and aimed dead at one of the soldiers.

Rey jumped, hitting the attacker in an awkward tackle that sent them both tumbling away.

She regained her feet to find herself facing a slender figure, unmistakably female and wielding a glaive with predatory grace. It was strikingly at odds with her mask, which resembled a partially veiled skull, two black hollows staring out from under a hood.

“Knight of Ren,” Rey said, falling into a defensive stance. She’d put herself between the warrior and the tunnel leading out of the mountain, trying to gauge if she’d seen this one in her dream. _No, this one’s new to me_.

“Gwaelyn Ren, to be precise.” It was the sort of voice that Kaydel liked to call “ripe” and Poe called “hammy”, when a holo-reel villain spoke that way. From Gwaelyn Ren however, it was all too fitting, a venomous hiss. “My master was generous with this tasking. I have longed to test myself against the scavenger, the last Jedi. A worthy foe. When this is done, I will flense your skull and set it before the throne.”

Kaydel’s voice echoed back down the tunnel, calling Rey’s name. She resisted the urge to look back, but she stiffened all the same. Gwaelyn saw it and Rey knew, just _knew_ that the smile behind Gwaelyn’s mask had widened.

“But maybe I’ll have some fun with the scavenger’s dear ones first.”

Rey lashed out with the Force, which Gwaelyn threw up a shield to resist, and ducked into the tunnel, the Knight lunging after her with her sizzling blade.


	19. Knights of Ren

Above Finn’s head, Jess’ A-Wing twisted in the air to get below a TIE Bomber. Her cannons fired and laser beams ripped into her enemy’s underbelly. The bomber disintegrated, consumed by its own explosive payload.

All the Resistance fighters were in the air now, blowing First Order craft out of the sky and finally giving Finn and his troops some respite as they crossed the causeways. Poe and his squads held the opposite side, laying down covering fire against the Stormtroopers. Further back, volleys of heavy weapons fire thundered from positions around the ships, even the gunships’ turrets opening up.

The H-Wings too had taken wing and were already proving their worth, laying down a punishing stream of plasma bolts and missiles. The first Stormtrooper companies to assault the landing site had caught the full blast of it. Only half of them had made it back out of range.

Under that cover, Finn brought his troops back across the bridges in a leapfrogging retreat, one squad falling back before digging in and providing cover for the comrades they’d just moved past. It wasn’t the quickest method, but it was the one that kept the most soldiers alive. Injured troops were bundled quickly aboard the gunships.

Finn had become well-practiced at this kind of manoeuvre, and they’d been fighting like this all through their retreat through the tunnels. Except for when the enemy had got too close, and the melee weapons came out.

It helped that the Stormtroopers who’d been pursuing them had thinned out now. Finn and his men had fought through several squads who’d tried to intercept them under the mountain, taking out dozens. After that, only a few enemy units had managed to give effective pursuit. Finn just hoped that meant they hadn’t found Rose, and that Rey had got hold of her and Kaydel.

The Scrappers had returned, minus Rey and pursued by First Order troops – the majority had deployed on the shoulder of the mountain. UA-TT walkers – hunched, heavily armed evolutions of the AT-ST – were with the infantry, lurching towards the Resistance landing site. Their cannons chattered to life, ripping up the scraps before them. If they gained the ridge, they could easily sweep the bridges clear of retreating Resistance soldiers.

“Missiles on those walkers!” Poe barked. A heavy weapons team sprang from cover and fired off a barrage of missiles. The walkers reeled from the impacts, staggering before a volley from the gunships finally felled them.

“Good work!” Poe yelled. “Finn,” he rasped when they reached him, “where the hell are the others?”

“I don’t-” Finn started. But then he felt a sharp chill, as he’d been plunged into ice. “Down!”

He grabbed Poe’s shoulders and ducked, right as blaster bolts snapped through the air around them – coming from behind. Three soldiers went down, blown off their feet.

“What-” Poe gasped as Finn dragged him into cover.

“Knight of Ren,” Finn said.

He sneaked a look and there it was – a figure in black armour, armed with a handcannon. Even as he watched, the Knight fired again and two more soldiers were hit.

BB-8 was caught in the open. Poe lunged forward and grabbed him, narrowly avoiding another blast. They hunkered down again, Poe cradling his droid.

Finn saw another soldier go down. He turned back to Poe. “Get everyone back to the ships.”

Poe stared at him. From behind other bits of cover, so did the soldiers around them. “What are you gonna-”

“Go!” Finn burst from cover, firing off a burst of shots at the dark figure on the junk heaps.

Poe didn’t need telling twice, and Finn heard the thudding of boots behind him, fleeing toward the landing site. But he kept his eyes forward. He felt the Knight’s attention lock onto him, the dark warrior seeming to recognise something in him.

He sensed the salvo before it happend. The handcannon in his enemy’s hand snapped and spat, and Finn dived into cover behind an old swoop bike as the shots smacked home around him. One near miss blew the head of his shock-baton clean off, and Finn glared angrily at the useless handle. “Son of a…” He tried to ignore the fist-sized holes punched into the scrap.

Peeking out from behind the swoop, he scanned the area. Nothing – no, _there_. The Knight’s presence was a blot on his consciousness, a shadow on his perception.

Finn ducked down again as bolts of plasma battered against the swoop, showering him with sparks. He grimaced. He couldn’t beat this murderer to the shot. But – he thought back to a firefight on another desolate world – he didn’t need to.

Suddenly, the world seemed much quieter, except for the steps of the Knight stalking him. His vision sharpened. The fingers of his free hand flexed, and he felt the Force as a _thrum_ through his muscles.

He began to rise and took a hold of the lightsaber hilt at his belt. “I can do this,” he whispered to himself. “I can do this.”

He sprang out, activating the weapon as the Knight targeted him again, and caught the shot on the blade. The impact reverberated down his arms, but the blast flew straight back and smacked into the Knight’s armoured leg.

A pained roar escaped the helmet’s grille and the Knight staggered. Finn advanced, saber held in front of him. “Yeah,” he rasped. “That’s right.”

With another bellow the Knight flung out his free hand and Finn felt something slam into him, propelling him back into the wrecked bike. He rolled aside as a shot ripped into the metal and heard a vibro-blade activate. The Knight had drawn a scimitar sword from under his robe, and while he was limping, his armour must be durable indeed, because he came on at a heavy run.

Finn regained his feet and met his enemy’s charge, the vibro-sword shrieking as its blade clashed against the saber, indigo blade against blood-red power field. He remembered his training and kept his movements tight, trying not to expose himself to the Knight’s quick attacks. Sweat started out on his forehead.

The dark warrior was powerful; Finn could feel it burning off him. He fed off his own pain and rage like Kylo Ren had in the forest, continuously on the attack. But Finn saw how the wound hindered his opponent – his footwork couldn’t match his speed with the sword.

So Finn moved fast and wheeled, always trying to come at the Knight from his wounded side. Every attack he deflected rather than parried outright, the better to come back immediately and keep pressing his enemy.

Not that the Knight made it easy. Far from it. Finn had fought brutal opponents before – the gladiators of Magna Leptus, the witch-warriors of Dathomir, the various bounty hunters the First Order sent after the Resistance – but the Knight of Ren surpassed any of them. His ferocity was coupled with a lethal finesse and, of course, he was steeped in the Dark Side. Finn could feel the noisome aura of power, radiating off him like feverish heat. It leant him speed, strength and that uncanny precision Finn had come to recognise at a Force-user’s precognition.

In response Finn did the same, letting his saber be guided by his instincts even as he tried to read the Knight’s patterns of attack, find an opening. He saw the thrust aimed at his throat and jerked back, angling his saber to plunge into his enemy’s chest. Only then did he see his enemy’s true intent.

It was there in the Knight’s left hand falling away from the hilt, the sudden tension in the right arm, the sudden sense that his unseen eyes were on Finn’s stomach.

That was all the warning he got. He hurled himself backwards, the scimitar whipping across his breastplate and leaving a shallow cut.

Finn hit the uneven ground hard. He heard the crackle and reacted on instinct, tensing and rolling away as the scimitar came shrieking down. And again.

Footwork. He needed to be back on his feet. The scimitar came for his head again.

But right now, he’d settle for taking his enemy off his feet. He batted the blade sideways, grabbed the Knight’s wrist and sent him tumbling after it. He was rewarded with a bellow of rage, but he didn’t look back, standing again and resuming his attack, swinging over his right shoulder.

The scimitar moved to block, but Finn threw his full weight behind the saber and with a groan of effort, his enemy’s leg gave way beneath him. The Knight jabbed up, nearly catching him in the gut, but Finn darted back. Then he lunged again and with a sweep of the blade, he sent the helmeted head rolling across the scrap.

Finn slumped back against the swoop, breathing hard as he deactivated the saber. His blood boomed in his ears, newly aware of the energy flowing through him. Then he stood and ran, back to the landing site.

In the tunnels, Gwaelyn Ren flinched for a moment. Rey saw it and tried to press the attack, but the Knight screeched and renewed her own assault.

Gwaelyn was an exceptional duellist. Rey recognised a melding of the Ataru and Shien Forms, the same principles as her style, but with a wilder edge to them. Her opponent didn’t simply channel her anger, as Rey did, but embraced it, fed upon it and let it grant strength to her limbs. The Dark Side burned inside her, and getting close was like advancing into the heat-wash of an open furnace.

She was blisteringly fast too, faster even than the Praetorians Rey had faced in Snoke’s throne room and with a feral poise to match. They spun around each other in the hyperkinetic manner of Ataru; always moving, always seeking a new angle to catch the other off guard. If one gained the advantage, the other fell back into Shien or Soresu’s tight, defensive patterns before striking back. The blows they traded were a constant flurry, painting the metal walls in a wash of crimson and electric blue.

Rey barely blocked a slash which would have taken off the top of her head. She veered away as Gwaelyn drove the glaive at her heart and swung back, only for the Knight to evade the blow and cut at her again. She jerked back, the blade a finger’s breadth from her throat.

She was going backwards, fighting as much to keep her enemy at bay as to actually beat her. The staff was too slow, too cumbersome against the glaive.

She rallied, catching another slash and driving forward with the lower end of her staff, striking Gwaelyn’s armoured shin. There was a satisfying _crack_ of armour and Gwaelyn staggered, but it was only for a moment and she retaliated viciously, driving her knee at Rey’s groin. Rey twisted and instead it thumped into her thigh with a dull clang of metal, still enough to send her reeling back into the wall. Her staff rang against Gwaelyn’s helmet in response, but there was little power in the blow and it only stopped her enemy from pressing the advantage.

Briefly separated, they both regarded one another. “That wasn’t very ladylike,” Rey told Gwaelyn.

Gwaelyn made a visceral little noise which suggested that in other circumstances, she’d have spat. “I didn’t think the scavenger would be such a prim little creature.”

They lunged simultaneously, weapons sparking against each other once again. Again Rey was driven back. The blow to Gwaelyn’s head didn’t even seem to have slowed her.

Daylight pricked the edge of her vision and then they were on a causeway. Rey ducked away and leapt a pile of scrap, putting distance between herself and Gwaelyn before she saw the Knight’s gaze had wandered.

Quick as she dared, Rey looked – and saw Rose and Kaydel, moving low and slow to avoid fire from the Stormtroopers now moving down the ridge. Suddenly there was an unbearable tightness in her throat.

Gwaelyn raised her hand and a wall of air slammed into Rey, nearly knocking her off her feet. By the time she recovered, the Knight was past her and racing along the bridge.

Rey followed, gaining, but too late. Gwaelyn stretched out a hand and Kaydel was yanked backwards as if by an invisible wire. She landed hard on the metal, the Knight pouncing on her.

“ _No!_ ” Rey yelled, seeing the glaive rise.

And then it plunged into Kaydel’s back.

What followed was the product of pure instinct. With a primal howl of rage, Rey threw out a hand behind herself and _shoved_ , propelling herself forward. It wasn’t elegant, but she cannoned into the Knight and knocked her off Kaydel.

She attacked before she even regained her feet, left-right, the blows ringing against her enemy’s glaive. She was screaming, giving guttural voice to her wrath. Gwaelyn slashed at her again but this time Rey barely tried to evade it, seeing the Knight expose herself.

The vibro-blade bit into her cheek, leaving a long gash. But even as bloody smoke flew from the wound, Rey slammed the crackling staff home. It struck with enough force to stave Gwaelyn’s breastplate in.

The Knight flew backwards, slamming into a jagged metal outcrop with a grisly crack before she dropped to the floor.

“Kaydel!” Rey rushed over to the other woman, letting her staff fall. Kaydel was slumped on her front, a red stain spreading across her back. Her life force was a mere flicker, her breath the same.

Rose was already kneeling next to Kaydel. “It’s too late, Rey,” she whispered, already seeing how deep the wound was, already resigned to losing her.

But Rey wasn’t going to let this happen. She wasn’t going to let Kaydel perish. Blinking away the stinging tears, she took a breath and laid a hand on the wound, not caring about the blood. “Stay with me, Kaydel,” she whispered. Then, with the Force, she reached into her.

“ _Rey…_ ” Kaydel’s voice was barely even a whisper.

“I’m here, Kaydel. I’ve got you.” She tried to keep the sob out of her voice, found that a whisper was all she could manage herself. “Stay with me.” The technique she was using was one the Jedi held in little favour; indeed she’d only found it through the Grey Jedi’s holocron. Rey called upon the energy within herself, dredging it up and carrying it across the link.

It _hurt_. A groan of effort issued from her mouth, but she didn’t relent. She let her own life force spill out of her and into Kaydel, urging her to heal, taking charge of muscle and sinew and forcing them to knit back together. She was dimly aware of Rose staring at her, dumbstruck.

It was working. She could feel it, even as she felt the effort sapping her own strength. Every cell in her body urged her not to do it, but she overrode those instincts and kept on, demanding that Kaydel’s heart kept beating, demanding that she _lived_.

And then, miracle of miracles, Kaydel took a proper, heaving breath and rolled over. Her eyes were wide, out of focus for a moment before they found Rey. Instinctively, Rey cradled her, barely hearing the gunfire in the distance. “Kaydel? Are you alright?”

Kaydel nodded and sat up as Rose joined them. She was breathing heavily and a bruise was darkening on her chin, but otherwise she looked fine. But concern kept Rey looking, searching her face. Realising how close she’d come.

Only Kaydel stopped her, motioning past her shoulder. “Rey…”

She turned, and saw Gwaelyn clawing weakly at her helmet. She got up, shaking – healing Kaydel had severely depleted her strength – but she mastered her aching limbs. Cautiously, still bent over to avoid being seen by the enemy on the ridge, she approached.

The Knight saw her approach and drew a dagger from her belt, but her strength was fading quickly – Rey kicked the blade out of her hand and knelt to remove the helmet, Gwaelyn pawing feebly at her arms.

Underneath the skullish mask was a face that must have been beautiful once, before the skin paled to corpse-white and the eyes yellowed to a shade of bile. As Gwaelyn took a blood-laced breath, she bared teeth which had been filed to sharp points – or perhaps that was the corruption too.

The rasping breaths resolved into guttural words. “The Ren marks you now, Jedi. The blood… _knows you_.” Rey shivered, feeling as though a cloud had suddenly moved across the sun. Then Gwaelyn’s head tipped back and Rey heard the death rattle in her throat.

“Rey,” Rose said behind her. “We’ve gotta go.”

She took a breath. “Right.” And the three women pelted back to the ships, gathering up the other stragglers at they went.


	20. Taking the Leap

“General, we have a Resistance ship inbound from the outer system. Moving fast.”

“What class?” Hux demanded, hands gripping the back of the officer’s seat. Of course the Resistance would have something in the void for an operation like this. There were far too many craft down there for them to all just jump straight to hyperspace.

“Corvette, sir. Looks like it’s optimised for transport capacity.”

Hux smiled. “Then they’ve made a break for it.” _And I’ll be the one to capture them, not those wretched Knights_. “Let it get close, it’ll have to slow to collect the scum on the ground. Then move to intercept. Disable it when the transports are aboard – and if that somehow fails, we track them.” He would secure the objective, be the one to excoriate the deserters and more importantly, take the prisoners.

He indulged a private smile at that. For all Ren’s obsession with running down the girl and her friends, it would be he who delivered them to justice and robbed the Resistance of its most precious mascot. A clear demonstration of the virtues of rational leadership, which would not be lost on the First Order’s political and command echelons.

He could see his prey coming now, the corvette cutting in from the starboard side while on the holo displays, the Resistance craft streaked up into orbit.

Everything was falling into place. “On my signal,” he ordered.

One irritant snuffed out, and the way open to remove every obstacle from his path.

“Ready the ventral cannons,” he said. “Prepare boarding parties-“

“General!”

He wheeled around. Sirens had started screaming around him. “What?”

“We have proximity alerts! Several ships, emerging from hyperspace!”

Hux moved back to the viewport, but before he’d even taken a full stride a Resistance fleet leapt into realspace, bombers and fighters already spilling from hangars.

Sweat broke out on his face, and he felt a snarl distort his features. “Acquire targets, fire on the fleet!”

The patrolling TIE fighters moved to respond, but were set upon and destroyed while the Resistance ships began raking the Star Destroyers with laser fire.

“They’re squandering their firepower,” Stolan remarked next to him. “They can’t break the armour of any one ship if they’re spreading their volleys so thinly.”

“No,” Hux rasped. “This is D’Qar again, they’re going after our surface cannons.”

And sure enough, in the wake of the broadsides came the Y-Wings and X-Wings. They attacked with a precision that would make his own squadrons proud, striking at the emplacements in a rippling wave of explosions. Some of them were caught by lasers or missiles, spinning away in clouds of debris or vanishing in explosions. But too few, not enough to stop them from clearing out the guns.

“Does any ship at least have a firing solution on the corvette?” he railed.

A comms officer spoke up. “The _Adamant_ reports that it- ah,” he said, suddenly deflated. “Deprived of cannons, General.”

“They’re preparing to jump to hyperspace!” another officer cried.

“We have a tracking lock,” Stolan murmured in Hux’s ear. “Do we pursue?”

“And run headfirst into hostile space, with barely a working gun?” Hux hissed at him. He turned away, tasting bile. “Stand down and prepare to extract surface assets.”

The Resistance craft had made it to their ships. Hux watched the enemy blink out of range, seething all the time. Victory gone to disgrace again, and Ren wouldn’t take any explanations about cunning enemy tactics. Suddenly the whip hand was very much the Supreme Leader’s.

Stolan didn’t look at him, but remarked tonelessly, “An accelerated timeline may be preferable, given this development.”

Hux, not looking at Stolan either, nodded. “Torqueda will need to be informed of that, so he can relay it to his operatives.” He grimly considered that he’d have rather had some of Torqueda’s own Inquisitors set aboard Ren’s fleet, but they were operating on a limited timescale. They worked with what they had. He put the thought aside and turned to a lieutenant. “What word from the surface?”

“Moderate losses to the division, General, though our fighter and bomber wings report rather greater casualties. Excuse me sir, the captain has more…”

Hux stalked closer, watching the man’s face go pale and slack. “And?”

“My word,” the lieutenant muttered, and gulped. Then he straightened up as best he could. “General, both Knights have been found dead, close to the landing site. It seems likely to be the work of the scavenger, and perhaps the deserter.”

“ _Both of them?_ ” Hux repeated. Exhaling slowly and kneading his temples, he stepped away. What had been an unwelcome pair of presences breathing down his neck was now blood on his hands. Of course he’d been up here in orbit and had no control over the circumstances in which those wretched Knights perished, but he didn’t imagine for a second that Ren would see it that way.

He had his death sentence. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but when Hux’s head was struck from his shoulders, this was the reason that Ren would give.

“Colonel,” he said eventually. “The timetable is to be accelerated drastically. I need a missive composed for the Supreme Leader, informing him that we are unable to mount a viable pursuit of the Resistance forces and will need to refit and resupply at Corellia. We will leave the Resistance to their rightful hunter.” He stared down at the planet, breathing heavily through his nose. “And then another message for Torqueda and the others. The Supreme Leader is about to give us an opening we can’t afford to miss.”

Safely aboard the _Rapscallion_ and with the fleet in hyperspace, Poe got on the radio to address the strike force the moment Maz confirmed they weren't being pursued. He congratulated them on a job well done, but he didn’t let himself get too ebullient. “We lost friends and comrades today. They more than accounted for themselves and what we retrieved brings us a step closer to victory, but we mourn them nonetheless.”

He replaced the handset and sat back, reminding himself that they had done good today. Hell, the First Order’s attack had actually worked in their favour. Thanks to Maz’s fleet, the enemy weren’t in any condition to offer meaningful pursuit. Now he had a free hand to find the _Vehement_ and get his force back to Resistance space before another fleet came calling. Not to mention that if he was any judge and with two Knights of Ren among the enemy dead, the First Order were about to be short of another general.

Still, it could only do so much to salve the pain of seeing more comrades killed. Chewie patted him gently on the shoulder and gave an encouraging growl.

“Thanks Chewie. I hope it sounded that way to the others.” Then he moved into the main cabin, finding Finn and Rose with the Scrappers, who were already breaking out rations and refreshments. It sounded like a good party was starting up, outside in the hangar.

C-3PO and R2-D2 were there too, Threepio trying in vain to get some sympathy from R2 for his begrimed state. “I’ve even got shrapnel abrasion on this leg! The barbarity of that world, R2! You really don’t appreciate how lucky you’ve been, cooped up in here.”

Finn was tending to his blaster, concentrating so much that Poe had to nudge him with his boot. “Finn, put the blaster down. You can clean it in the morning.”

Finn looked like he was going to protest – in truth Poe knew it would hurt him to leave the blaster dirty for any length of time – but then he saw the flask in Poe’s right hand, and the three tumblers in his left. “Is that-”

“Merenzane Gold? Yeah, my treat.”

BB-8 trundled up to Finn. “Hey.”

BB-8 warbled his reply, rocking from side to side.

“Thanks little guy." Bleeping and warbling answered his words. "No, I was worried about you too.” Finn patted the droid’s side, and BB-8 wobbled appreciatively. “Glad you made it.”

“Where’d you get it?” Rose asked Poe, taking the proffered tumbler.

He took his eyes off Finn and the droid. “Sejatul. Pava and I ran across a bottle in a bombed-out apartment and we had an empty flask, so…” he took a seat. “I carried out a quick rescue. Believe me, Rose, no one was coming back for it,” he clarified when she raised an eyebrow.

Finn eyed his drink with mild suspicion. “What’s the occasion?”

“What’s-” Poe looked hard at him. “Don’t give me that. I saw you _take a Knight of Ren down_. What’s the occasion,” he muttered.

Finn nodded. “Yeah, I suppose that’s pretty big.” This time, Poe knew his friend was trying to rile him. Rose smiled and shrugged when he rolled his eyes.

“And,” Rose added, “we still have Kaydel, when we so nearly lost her.”

Finn lost the distinctly cheeky smile he’d had on his face. “I’ll drink to that,” he and Poe chorused immediately.

Finn took a swig. Then he stopped himself, and held the tumbler up to his eyes. “Damn, I see why this stuff’s so pricey. That’s exquisite.”

“Savour it buddy,” Poe told him. “We’ve only got this flask. Seriously though, and leaving aside what Rey did for Kaydel, just for the moment. I saw how you took that bastard out – that was you using the Force, right?”

From the look on Finn’s face, he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Yeah, I just reached out and the Force was there, ready to guide me. Like Rey said it would be.”

Poe grinned. “Try and give yourself a little credit, pal. That was some good fighting. And Rose tells me Rey got the other one.”

Rose nodded. “Yeah. Consider me in her debt for sure, not just Kaydel.”

Gial approached Poe, and he tickled the little creature behind the ears. “Have either of you talked with her about it – about all this, yet?”

Finn shook his head. “She’s in her cabin with Kaydel.”

Poe’s eyebrows shot up. “Huh. Are we leaving a glass aside for her?”

Finn took another sip and thought about it for a moment. “Nah. They’re gonna be a while.”

“Hold still.”

“Ow. _Oww_ …”

“I said hold still,” Kaydel took the wipe away and inspected the cut on Rey’s cheek. They were sitting on the bed in Rey’s cabin, where she had insisted on getting Kaydel cleaned up and finding her a new top from her own wardrobe, before finally letting Kaydel tend to her in turn. “Mm hmm, I call that almost clean.”

“More than I can say for the fight,” Rey murmured. She still felt drained from the combat and the effort of healing Kaydel. “She nearly killed me three times in a minute. I haven’t seen anyone move that fast since Ren himself, in Snoke’s throne room.” She sighed, leaving unsaid the other thing – that she hadn’t been quick enough to stop Gwaelyn from wounding Kaydel. “I need to put the time aside and get a lightsaber of my own, like you said. The one we found wouldn’t have been much good there, but the old staff doesn’t quite cut it either.”

“Pun intended?” Kaydel saw her expression and made an apologetic look. “You’re right, but for now I’m glad we both came away in one piece. And that’s two fewer Knights of Ren for us to fear.”

“Did I hear right about Finn getting the other one?”

Kaydel shrugged. “So Poe says. Sounds like the saber did come in handy, even if it wasn’t right for you.” She picked up a med scanner, checking the wound for any contaminants she couldn’t spot herself. “I didn’t see it, so you might want to check with Finn later. OK, one more dab… and we’re done here.”

Rey grimaced as she picked up a mirror and examined the wound. “That’s going to scar.”

“I think it’s going to be dashing.” Kaydel smiled, dropping her voice to a purr. A ‘ripe’ purr, as she'd call it. “The roguish warrior girl.” Her finger traced a line, parallel to the cut, and Rey suppressed a shudder at the touch. “I didn’t thank you for saving me yet,” Kaydel said quietly. Her free hand went to her sternum, where Gwaelyn’s spear had pierced clean through her front.

“It was instinct,” Rey replied quickly, trying to stem the emotions which welled up in her. Too quickly, the words feeling curt even to her own ears.

Kaydel’s face fell at that, and Rey felt a sharp pang in her chest. She’d really done it this time. “Well, thanks-”

“No, that’s not right,” Rey interrupted, taking hold of her wrist before the other woman could pull away. She swallowed, but there was no going back now, no room to sidestep. Kaydel’s kicked-dog expression fell away, and Rey knew they’d both been waiting a long time for this moment. “I meant to say that I saw her go for you. And seeing her stab you…” her voice grew thick with emotion, “the _very idea_ of seeing you die… that _hurt_ , Kaydel.” She tapped her cheek. “More than any little cut. A lot...” she let out a slow breath. “A lot of feelings came bubbling up then. Feelings I’ve had about you for months.”

Kaydel’s eyes widened, her lower lip trembling a little. "I don't know if you realise how much it means to me, to hear you say that."

Rey mustered a little smile. “I think I might. I’ve been running scared of it for long enough. I haven’t dared to say anything about how I feel. And then she came at you and I realised that I’d have never said…”

“And I get that.” Her face was so very close to Rey’s now. “Rey, I don’t just want to be around you because you’re Rey the Jedi. It’s… it’s because of everything else about you. It’s because you took the time to talk to me after Crait.”

Rey was losing the fight to stay restrained. “Poe did ask me to.” Apparently she couldn’t shake her inability to take a compliment, however.

Kaydel’s eyebrow rose a little, a smirk threatening to break out for a moment. “Yeah, he asked – and you went straight ahead and did it. You made time for the girl from Mission Control, not because that’s what Jedi do, but because you wouldn’t think not to.” Tentatively, she put her hand to Rey’s cheek. “Rey from Jakku, I… I love you, whether you’re a Jedi or not.”

And suddenly, the thundering in Rey's heart didn’t seem a problem at all.

She raised her fingers to stroke Kaydel’s hair, provoking a tiny intake of breath. “Well, I love the girl from Mission Control.”

Kaydel took her face in both hands and leaned in, tilting her head just a little. Rey shut her eyes, feeling the same tremor she had when she’d put her hand to Kylo’s two years ago. But when Kaydel pressed her lips against hers, it hit Rey even harder. The outside world seemed to fall away, and all she felt was the soft pressure of Kaydel’s mouth. For a second they held still, and then Kaydel pulled away. Rey’s eyes snapped open with a little gasp and she saw Kaydel, smiling nervously, plainly dreading that she’d done something wrong.

She smiled back at her – and surged forward, throwing her arms around Kaydel and kissing her hard, feeling the grin which broke out across the other woman’s face. Kaydel responded in kind, her arms wrapping themselves about Rey’s waist, her kisses urgent and hungry...

They tumbled back onto the bed, Rey's wrist catching the mirror on her bedside surface and knocking it off.

Out in the main hold, Poe heard a muffled thump, grinned at Finn and raised his tumbler in a silent toast.


	21. A Haunting

They had named the ship _Subjugator_. Even before it was complete, it was quite apparent that no other name would fit the baleful vessel. Whether it had started with the architects, the officers who watched over the shipyards of Maluzin or the thousands of slaves who had toiled to assemble the leviathan, the name spread quickly. Eventually it reached the Supreme Leader, and he had no objections to the moniker.

The _Subjugator_ lacked the sheer size of its predecessor, the _Supremacy_ – though to be sure it was still vast. A unique Super Star Destroyer, ten kilometres from keel to stern. And where the _Supremacy_ had been a statement of arrogance, a fortified palace among the stars, the _Subjugator_ was the purest example of a warship from its dagger-sharp prow to the trio of autocannons which hung beneath its armoured belly.

Had the _Supremacy_ been designed this way, Ren liked to point out, the Resistance would have perished long before they got within sight of Crait. The _Subjugator_ was a great blade of dark metal, the epitome of Kylo Ren’s will to dominate. It had been sailing the stars for only a year and a half, and already there was no ship in the Galaxy that inspired more dread. It was a fleet-killer without peer, with over a hundred broken ships to its name already. Its arrival marked the end of all hope for any world which held out against the First Order.

So it had been for the world of Kreelin. Holding to geostationary orbit above the world’s tortured surface, the _Subjugator_ cast a shadow across the entire capital city. The First Order’s victory here was complete, the Supreme Leader having already returned to his flagship.

Aboard the monstrous vessel, Ren was partway through a strategic briefing when he felt two stabbing pains. Searing white light flashed behind his eyes, and he put a hand on the console before him to steady himself. For a split-second, he saw Rey, her face flecked with blood and etched with fury. Then he felt an emptiness, as if some part of him had been cut away.

He opened his eyes again, breathing hard through gritted teeth. His staff regarded him with mingled concern and fear, at least those who hadn’t decided that best policy would be not to meet his eyes. They quickly realised their error and stared at their feet.

Ren turned to his Knights. All of them appeared unsteady. Yimur stared back and nodded shakily, before bowing his helmeted head.

“Supreme Leader?” Pryde was looking quizzical.

Ren stared down at his armoured hand, curling it into a fist. “They killed them. Torlun and Gwaelyn are dead at the hands of the Resistance.” The anger was already kindling in his chest. “Have we received word from General Hux yet, to explain this?”

Admiral Frantis Griss, Ren’s fleetmaster, cleared his throat. “General Hux traced a potential lead to Raxus Prime, Supreme Leader. However, he found a Resistance taskforce already at the location and when he launched an attack, they sprang an ambush on his fleet.” He glanced down at the datapad in his hands and pursed his lips. “The General’s fleet was rendered combat-ineffective and they have been obliged to return to occupied space. He has suspicions, he says, that the-”

“I know she was there,” Ren snapped. He could feel her, some trace of her lingering on the edge of his senses. Turning to the viewports, he regarded the charred face of Kreelin, and forced himself to speak slowly and deliberately. “So Hux has squandered even the knowledge of the enemy’s whereabouts, and they are now on their way to find the deserters. My patience wears thin.”

That was putting it very mildly indeed. No wonder, he thought, that Hux had decided to compose a missive rather than explain himself in person. Ren was tempted to make contact himself, though on reflection he decided against it. Let Hux stew instead. He would pay soon enough, but for now he was a secondary consideration.

Ren sank into the red haze of his fury, finding a strange layer of melancholy. Two companions he had known since early adolescence, gone. For a certain, strange value of companion, their souls yoked to him by blood-sealed oath and the power of the Dark Side. But it clawed at him nonetheless. The Knights were the closest thing he had had to friends for a very long time. And now, where the presences of Gwaelyn and Torlun has been, there was a gaping, echoing void. Except for the merest trace of… _her_.

He forced himself to heed his surroundings again. Griss continued his summary of Hux’s report, interspersed with messages from the surface of Kreeling – the occupation forces were busy installing themselves and the rest had been recalled to the fleet. Within the hour, they would be able to depart and attend to the task Hux had so miserably failed at.

Ren allowed the words to wash over him as he studied the hololiths, until another voice intruded. An old, familiar voice. “So, the Supreme Leader job’s going quite nicely so far then?” Uncertainty rippled through his Knights.

And when he looked, he saw the ghost of his old master stood among the assembled officers. There was a wry smile on his face, though it quickly gave way to stern anger.

Ren had to wrench his eyes away, momentarily baring his teeth. “General, Admiral,” he said. “You have the bridge. There is a… matter I must attend to.”

He stormed down the corridors to his quarters at a pace that threatened to break into a run, the Knights hurrying to keep up and still trailing behind. Troops and officers saw him and froze, or even fled into adjacent rooms when they saw the look on his face.

Luke kept pace at his elbow, needling him all the way. “Do you really imagine you can sustain this, Ben? Do you still think that you can just crush the Galaxy into submission?”

Ren ducked into a side chamber, sealing the door with a gesture before even the Knights could enter behind him.

Luke’s ghost was not so easily deterred. He passed through the metal unhindered. “You think this will end any better for you than it did for Vader?”

Ren screamed, and every screen and light fitting within a thirty-metre radius blew out.

He turned back to the door. Luke was stood there, looking more exasperated than anything else. “Very mature, Ben. Are you ready to talk now?”

Ren glared at him, forcing a semblance of calm. “I notice a distinct lack of sorrow for your old pupils, _Master_.”

Luke lost any semblance of humour. “I did my mourning when I learned that you had leashed them to the Ren and made murderers of them. Or don’t you remember the other apprentices, the ones you slaughtered that night? I’m not going to deny that I was at fault, but what you did to your own friends is all on you. The best I can say for those two…” he hesitated, reluctant to say the names, but his eyes were hard and cold. “They’re free of you now.”

Ren let his breath hiss between his teeth. “So it’s the same old lecture, Uncle? You’re looking at the ruler-”

“The ruler who still has his idol in his chambers.” His uncle’s face was etched with disdain. “That damn mask. You know,” he added as he stepped forward, “unlike you, Ben, I’ve actually spoken to your grandfather. You only ever heard Snoke borrowing his voice.” He looked older than when Ren had last seen him, though the look in his eyes was no less fierce. “You know nothing of his regrets, the ones his spirit carries those even now. The compassion you’ve insisted for so long was a weakness was the only thing that saved him from total damnation.”

Ren sneered at him. “You think I’m daunted by the memory of a broken slave? I’m the _Supreme Leader_ , Uncle.” He gestured callously towards the mask. “I’ve outgrown him, just as I rid myself of Snoke, and of you. Even if you’re refusing to take the hint.” He put his face close to Luke’s. “I’m no one’s slave.”

“Oh certainly, you’re no one _else’s_ slave.” Luke shook his head sadly. “You’ve built your own cage and called it a fortress. But it’ll be the undoing of you. The Dark Side only ever consumes, in the end.” He softened his tone. “Don’t you see it in your own face, Ben?”

But that was so like a Jedi, the same dogma Ren had been fed throughout his tutelage. He treated it with the scorn it deserved. “I feel my power growing. But you know that, and that’s what you fear. You know how far I’ve grown beyond Rey’s strength. The next we meet, she’ll be at my mercy.”

“So sure.” Luke’s spirit had begun to fade away, vanishing into the shadows. “You don’t see your ruin coming, Ben. But it’s getting closer, unless you look past your delusions.”

A lie so blatant that even now, it amazed Ren that Luke could utter it with a straight face. “I see clearly enough.”

He could see Luke just clearly enough to note his raised eyebrow. “We’ll see, Ben.” Then Ren was alone in the room.

He emerged into a corridor dimly illuminated by back-up lights and strewn with the shards left by the lights blowing out. His Knights stood either attentively or where they had halted mid-prowl. All of them had hands on their weapons.

To Ren’s surprise, Krobakh was the first to speak, voice scraping through the grille of his helmet. He stepped forward and glass crunched under his feet.

“Skywalker?” It was the first time in years that any of the Knights had uttered their old teacher’s name. “What did he… say?”

“Nothing of consequence.” He stared at them, daring any of them to question him – naturally his eyes lingered longest on Verix. Not one of them spoke. “The dead can’t stop us. And now we know that Rey is among the Resistance in Tion. There is a trail to follow.”

“And we have blood vengeance to mete out,” Yimur hissed.

A bitter smile tugged at Ren’s lips. “That we do, my brothers.”

As he made his way back to the bridge, he passed officers and troopers nursing a variety of nasty cuts. He ignored them, for they were beneath his notice. The hunt called for his attention.

Gannylt was already in the infirmary, a medical droid sewing up the gashes on his forehead and chin. He winced as it tugged at his skin. Make this another reason to want Hux on the throne. What kind of leader thought so little of his men that he would just walk past them after pelting them with broken glass?

Theld, one of the other officers picked by Torqueda, was stood outside when he left. “We need to talk.”

“What’s to talk about?” he said, trying not to whisper it. They needed to sound like they were talking about something quite unworthy of interest. He’d learned that well in the academy. “We have our instructions. Surely that’s all we require. We wait and listen.”

“You haven’t heard. There’s been a missive from the High Inquisitor.” Theld steered him into a side room, glancing furtively behind them as he did so.

“The situation has changed,” Theld said once the door had hissed shut. They kept their voices low. “Ren is taking over the hunt for the _Vehement_. General Hux is in a corner, and we’ve gone from being a contingency to the best hope of getting justice for Supreme Leader Snoke.”

“Is there a plan? Have you heard from Captain Hauma?”

“Yes. Hauma knows Ren’s mind. The scavenger is among the Resistance. Between her and the deserters, he’ll want to deal with this in person. That gives us our opportunity.” Theld was almost shaking with a mix of nerves and fervour. “Ren goes to the surface of whatever world they’ve gone to ground on and takes the Knights with him. That leaves us clear to take the bridge. We’ve got three squads who we can rely on, planted by the High Inquisitor.”

Gannylt nodded. That should be enough.

Theld rattled on. “If we kill Pryde and Griss, we’ll have control of the whole _Subjugator_. While we’re doing that, the _Severity_ will bombard the surface and kill Ren. The rest of the fleet will be caught by surprise and leaderless. We’ll have won!” he hissed.

The mix of trepidation and ambition was infectious, Gannylt found. “Do the others know?”

“Yes, you’re the last. So from now on, we don’t stray from the bridge. When the signal comes we need to be ready.”

“For true order?”

“For true order.”


	22. A Threshold

Oddly enough, it was the sore knees that told Kaydel she wasn’t dreaming when she woke to find Rey curled up around her, and a scattered mess of clothes and armour carpeting the floor. Under the covers Rey’s hand rested on her midriff; the same point where Gwaelyn Ren’s spear had pierced through her front.

The healing process hadn’t been entirely clean. It had left a scar on Kaydel’s back and a smaller one at the front. A little ridge of tissue under Rey’s callused but gentle hand, but Kaydel found she didn’t mind the scars. Reminders of her near-death they might be, but they were also a memento of what Rey had done for her.

_My saviour... and my lover._

Kaydel wriggled a little, fighting the twin urges to laugh and cry out in euphoria.

That woke Rey; Kaydel felt her stirrings against her back, and rolled over to see her lover’s eyes - stars ablaze, that thought hit her hard. To see her lover’s eyes open, and the same flash of disbelief that she felt.

And then, pure elation. “Morning,” Rey beamed.

“Heya,” Kaydel returned the smile. “I don’t even know what to say about-”

“Me neither.” Rey kissed her, slipping her arms around Kaydel’s shoulders. “Except I adore you, and it scares me but I’m so bloody glad I said it. Even if I’m now kicking myself that I didn’t do so sooner.”

“Ah, but there’s no rushing it, right?” Kaydel rolled onto her back, pulling Rey with her. The scar on Rey’s upper arm was exposed, and she leaned over to kiss it. She wanted to never have to leave this cabin, to pretend that there wasn’t a Galaxy and a war waiting on the other side of that door.

Maybe they could indulge that daydream for a while. Rey grinned down at her, only to glance left and suddenly frown. “Oh, no, that’s not fair.”

“What’s-” Kaydel followed her eyes, seeing the clock where it had come to rest on her shirt. It was late morning already. “Urgh,” she groaned, then sighed. “No rushing love, but for now, looks like it’s going on the back burner.”

As if on cue, there came a rap on the door. “Rise and shine, lovebirds.” Finn’s voice. “Poe’s orders. We’ve got a briefing in fifteen.”

“Be there in ten,” Rey called. Then she added more quietly, “it’s going to have to be a very quick shower.”

Finn and Rose were already up. They’d awoken before anyone else, grabbed fleeting showers of their own, got a quick brew of caff on and roused the Scrappers from their tangle of bedrolls in the old cargo hold before feeding Gial. Kaydel’s usual space was conspicuously empty.

After knocking on Rey's door, they made for the bridge via the canteen, finding Maz and Poe already on deck. Maz was sat on her command chair, which meant that for once they were at eye level. She greeted him cheerfully. “I take it you were too tired to celebrate with all of us last night, Captain? No bother, we saved the big reveal for you all. We just need Rey.”

A featureless starfield greeted Finn as he scanned the view beyond. “Middle of nowhere again?”

“Safest place to be,” Maz replied. “It looks like the First Order thought better of following. No scanning locks at all after the first jump. Though I suppose we did do _quite_ the number on their ships.”

“There’ll be more of them coming after us soon,” Rose said. “I can’t imagine Kylo Ren is going to let two dead Knights of Ren slide.”

Finn felt an itch between his shoulder blades, where Ren had slashed him once. That particular thought hadn’t crossed his mind, though he knew they’d have to confront the Supreme Leader sooner or later. Suddenly, though, that prospect seemed much closer.

He tried to divert his thoughts – it helped that he had a question on his mind. “Say Maz,” he said. “When we first met, you knew Rey had a connection to the Force straight away. Why didn’t you notice it in me?”

She chuckled. “After two years in this mess, you still think the Force works that simply? A connection needs awakening.” Maz turned her head to regard him. “Luke knew Leia for a good few years before he realised it was in her.”

“Hmm.” He distracted himself further as the various captains and sergeants from the division entered, thanking and congratulating them for their conduct yesterday.

Rey and Kaydel entered a little later, bleary-eyed but beaming, and Maz finally unveiled the findings. Once decrypted, Cherilan’s last recordings had turned out to be a detailed account of his travels through the Tion Sector, and the trail that the _Vehement_ had left behind it. A trail which, though it had been difficult to find, was easy enough to follow.

“And that takes us to…” The holographic image of a planet snapped into life, green and verdant. A jungle world according to the accompanying description. “Omunak.” Maz whistled. “I hadn’t heard tell of that world in a very long time.”

“What’s the story?” Finn asked, but there was a look of recognition on Rey’s face.

“It’s mentioned in the oldest Jedi texts,” she said. “It used to be a subsector capital. These here,” she pointed to several dark patches on the globe, “were its cities. Advanced, beautiful cities.” Her face darkened. “Until a Sith Lord and his armies came to Omunak. They conducted a Dark Side ritual which consumed every soul on the planet.” She glanced at Maz. “Or so I’ve read.”

Maz nodded ruefully. “It’s hard to know how much is fact or myth in the old texts, but what’s certain is that no one has lived on Omunak since the Sith attacked it.”

“Until now,” Finn finished. He stepped away, hearing Maz start issuing instructions to the fleet.

His thoughts were a constant swirl in his head. The deserters had gone to ground on a world that hadn’t been inhabited for thousands of years, he considered. Which made sense; with so many of them they couldn’t just jump on a little vessel and vanish in a crowd. He wondered how they were living on that world.

“Finn.” Poe’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Finn turned to find him flanked by Rey and Rose. Kaydel and Chewbacca hung back a little. “You OK, pal?” Not to be outdone, BB-8 assumed a quizzical tilt. His lighter sprang out in a thumb-up gesture, but there was a questioning wobble to that too.

Finn thought about saying yes, for a moment. But Rey didn’t give him a chance. “It’s about the mission, isn’t it? About the deserters.”

He breathed out slowly. “Yeah.” The three of them waited silently, letting him gather his thoughts. “I’ve spent a lot of time fighting my own kind, the last couple years. It gets to weighing on you, after a while.”

Poe nodded. “Understandably. But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”

Finn took another swig of caff before he continued. Rose looked at him – she knew what he was going to say – and give him an encouraging smile. Rey and Poe waited in silence. “I never told you this, but on the _Supremacy,_ that day above Crait… I saw Stormtroopers hesitate. I challenged Phasma on her selling out the Starkiller, and the Stormtroopers who were with her… it shook them.”

Poe prompted him gently. “What happened next?”

He let his shoulders sag. “She gunned them down. No hesitation from her.” He looked at his friend. “But I saw it, and I know what it means. I don’t know how many Stormtroopers would hear that and question their masters, but every time I take one down now, I have to wonder if, given the right circumstances…”

“That’s rough,” Poe said, just to punctuate Finn’s words.

Finn nodded. “And I know the math, before you say it.” _Them or us._ “Same call I’ve been making since we bust out of the _Finaliser_. But now I might actually get to save some of these people. People like me.” He tried to find the words for how much that would mean to him. “And I’m scared of blowing this chance.”

“We’ll do it, Finn,” Rey said. Then she frowned and corrected herself. “You’ll do it.”

Poe took over. “And from there, who knows? This might be the point where the Galaxy looks at the First Order and realises how fragile it really is. Maybe more Stormtroopers will see your example, and find the courage to renounce them too. Finding the _Vehement_ might be the first step to ending the tyrants.” He paused, setting a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “I’m honoured, pal, that you feel able to share all that with me. Think I speak for all of us there, right?” Rey nodded, giving Finn an encouraging smile.

That brought a lump to Finn’s throat, though he managed to force it back down and thank them.

Hours passed in which they made a few checks on the Falcon, bringing them to a new system. Eventually, Maz beckoned them all back to the bridge.

A dark, rocky orb hung in the void before them. Not Omunak, but one of its moons. Maz had taken advantage of the extensive charts left by Cherilan to effect an old Resistance ploy, jumping into its shadow. Unless the deserters were keeping a very close eye on the surrounding system, this shouldn’t spook then, and it would let the ship get close enough that they couldn’t just pack up and flee.

That said, there had been some debate over that. Did they broadcast their approach, come thundering in or sidle up, even drift in from the edge of the system?

In the end, Poe had cast the deciding vote. They would take the approach that the First Order was least likely to adopt, approaching cautiously but not trying to actually hide themselves. When the deserters were found, he’d pointed out, they’d need them willing to talk.

Thus the _Rapscallion_ left the rest of the fleet orbiting the moon and crept forward, while lone fighters took it in turn to run ahead. Omunak, crawling out from behind its moon, grew steadily in the viewports. “Serene” was the first word that came to mind for Finn; the world was all blue ocean and greenery across its landmasses. He checked himself, remembering Vatel. Up close, it might not be that friendly.

The forward scopes picked out the remains of cities on the surface; the civilisation which the Sith had laid low, thousands of years before.

“No sign of the Destroyer,” Kaydel observed, tapping her chin as she watched the reports file in. “Must be down on the surface.”

“There can’t be many places big enough to hide one,” mused Rose.

Rey turned to Poe, clearly about to offer to take the Falcon and join the scouting parties.

She didn’t get the chance, however. A shout went up from the sensor pit. “Something’s approaching!”

Poe reacted immediately. “Jess, Snap, pull your fighters back.” He cut their protests short. “Do it!”

“Scopes, magnify!” Maz called. “What’ve we got?”

“Looks like,” Poe said, studying the consoles. “Three fighters. Standard TIE pattern, all of them. But the livery…” Then the scopes found the approaching fighters, and they saw what he meant. The black paint had seemingly been stripped away, leaving bare metal. “Definitely not First Order colours.”

“Do we call that promising?” Rose asked. Poe shrugged, wary of speaking too soon.

“They’re hailing us,” one of the comms team announced.

“Poe,” Maz said. “I assume you’re doing the honours?” He nodded, stepping onto the holo array, and she turned back to her officer. “Put them through.”

Three little specks of light appeared opposite the _Rapscallion_ and grew steadily to become a trio of TIE Fighters. Poe cleared his throat, but he was cut short when a young woman’s voice emanated from the speakers. “Go. Leave this system.”

He turned to Kaydel. “Well that’s a good start. We sending them an image?”

She nodded. “They’re just not reciprocating.”

“Fine.” He returned to the console, assumed his usual friendly manner. “Greetings _Vehement_. We don’t mean you any harm. We’re enemies to the First Order. We’re your friends.”

“Go!” The voice lacked the kind of blunt hostility you normally heard from Stormtroopers. With a jolt, Finn realised that the speaker was frightened – frightened of them, however much she fought to hide it. “We will fire on you if you do not desist.”

Finn and Rey exchanged worried looks. Poe tried again. “I’m telling you, we’re not here to-”

“You don’t fool us!”

“Does this look like a Star Destroyer?”

“We’ll die before we give in-”

Finn pushed past Poe. “This is FN-2187.”

The other side of the exchange suddenly went very quiet. He looked back at Poe, who just raised his hands and took a step back. _Over to you_.

He took a deep breath, staring out at the fighters and trying to project a calmness which he didn’t feel. “ _Vehement_ , we come from the same place. I wanna talk to you guys, that’s all we’re after here. I think we might be able to help you.”

Silence met him.

“They still talking to us?” he hissed to Poe.

“Channel’s still open,” Kaydel confirmed.

“Huh.” Poe grinned ruefully. “Seems to me that we’re on hold.”

The silence stretched out, leaving them all to fidget and wonder what was going on at the other end of that channel. For his part, Finn suspected that it was a furious argument.

Jess made contact. “Commander, should we intercept?”

Poe’s refusal was immediate. “Negative, Black Leader. Stay alert, but you guys need to keep right back. Defensive positions only, nothing that’ll spook them. Blue Squadron, that goes for you too. Everyone else, you’re staying grounded.”

The link reopened. “You can send one transport. Follow me, you’ll be transmitted landing coordinates.”

Sighs of relief all round behind Finn. “Give us a moment please and we’ll be right with you,” Poe said. He clapped his hands together and turned to the rest. “All aboard the Falcon, then.”

Whatever Omunak’s landscape had been back when it was settled, now the entire biosphere seemed to be one huge jungle. Trees as tall as skycrapers and almost as thick carpeted the landscape, themselves festooned with vines and creepers. Creatures swung and scampered through the branches, or took wing as the Falcon and TIE Fighters disturbed them. Rey watched, eyes constantly darting from one sight to another.

Poe wasn’t enjoying the view, however. He’d taken over the pilot’s seat from her – ostensibly to take his mind off the situation, but she could tell he was trying to keep one eye on the scanner feed. Knowing of Finn’s presence had calmed the deserters somewhat, which was good news in anyone’s book. Though it would be nice if they could move on to trusting the Resistance.

“Commander,” Nyzar called from the hold. “Want us on the turrets?”

“Negative. We’re going for friendly, Nyzar.” He leaned over toward Chewbacca, trying to look past the Wookie. Conceding defeat, he asked, “Still just those two TIEs behind us?”

“In the air, yes.” Rose glanced at a console. “ _But_ we’ve also got targeting locks from the ground.”

“How many?”

Chewbacca growled an answer.

“ _Twenty_?”

“They’re wary,” Finn offered, stood at the back and holding a rail to steady himself. These days the cockpit was a lot more cramped, with Rose taking a seat and Rey squeezed up next to Kaydel.

“You think?” Poe winced at his own tone after a moment, offering Finn an apologetic look and getting a handwave in response. None of them were exactly pleased to be exposing themselves like this, Poe least of all. He stayed silent for a few moments, then, “Jess and Snap aren’t going to be happy about this.”

“None of it’s ideal,” Kaydel said. “But you were right. We’ve gotta play nice with fidgety Stormtroopers, wouldn’t you say, Finn?”

“Uh huh.”

Poe huffed a little but didn’t argue the point any further.

“Landing in five minutes,” came a TIE pilot’s voice, the same woman who’d addressed them before. “Sending coordinates now.”

“Thanks,” Poe said. That got no response. “Man, I didn’t think they’d be as friendly as you, Finn, but if they’re all this tetchy…”

They were over the outer districts of the old city now. It was hard to tell how far it had extended as the forest had reclaimed so much terrain and so thoroughly. What remained of the city was worn-down stone and ferrocrete, with the odd protruding spar of metal. Not one building looked to be over four stories tall. On the ground and the lower roofs, people were visible, and the glossy black surfaces of what looked like solar panels. Possibly repurposed from machines aboard the _Vehement_ , Rey thought.

More obviously, there were a number of turrets which must have been hauled up from the gorge or lowered to the ground while the Destroyer was in the air. Just as Rose had said, they were tracking the Falcon assiduously.

Chewbacca made an appreciative noise, prompting them all to sit up a little and look further ahead.

Poe whistled. “No argument here, Chewie. That’s pretty impressive.”

A chasm yawned on the far side of the city, steep-sided. It was deep enough that the floor wasn’t at all visible from here, but they could just make out the heavily armoured bridge of a Star Destroyer. For the first time, Rey felt a little surge of hope at the sight, but behind her, Finn was rather more tense. She could feel it rippling out from him through the Force. When she glanced back, he was leaning forward a little, gripping the back of her chair more tightly than before.

His power – or rather his connection to the Force, she thought – had grown since they set out. Facing the Knight of Ren had probably been just the sort of crisis moment to draw it out. She’d experienced that herself, after all, and so had Leia during the pursuit from D’Qar. Though Leia’s had been altogether more extreme, and it hadn’t delivered her unscathed. Rey felt a sharp pang just thinking about the General’s condition.

Abruptly the Star Destroyer was hidden, the view swallowed up by the architecture around them as the Falcon descended. They found themselves on an airfield of sorts, surrounded by twenty or so Fighters. Presumably the rest were aboard the ship.

And stood around the base of the fighters, their audience. A first look at the deserters they were hoping to recruit.

“Hey.” Poe stood, prodding her shoulder. “Better not keep ‘em waiting, and we’ll get a better view out there. C’mon, c’mon.”


	23. The Conspirators and the Deserters

The _Unremitting_ and its lessers were docked in the orbital shipyards above Corellia. They were festooned with scaffolds, repair droids and labourers in sealed suits crawling across them like insects, going over the damage done at Crait. They moved in the shadows of the massive clawcranes which swung slowly over them, removing ruined cannons and setting new ones in place. Corellia turned out dozens of Star Destroyers a year, and Governor Mangat had seen to it personally that replacements were made available to Hux’s fleet.

The divisions aboard were also taking delivery of new equipment, but their commanders did not deign to observe the process. That was what the overseers were for. Menials – and for that matter, the overseers too – were beneath the notice of a general. As for the disruption to the yards’ schedule, Mangat would attend to that and be amply rewarded for his trouble.

Instead, Hux was in his stateroom with his supporters. Some attended in person, others were holograms. A holomap turned slowly above the table, showing the sector around Gorothad. The noise and vibrations of the work being done on the hull barely registered in here.

Hux had enough to occupy his attention in any case. At present, Commodore Kellum Adreyvan was busy trying to extend their layover. “Sir, if we are to have all our ships completely repaired, as is protocol, then it will take at least another two days.”

“Two days we cannot spare for repairs we do not require.” Hux steepled his fingers. “I set the extent of these repairs for good reason; the _Unremitting_ is the only vessel we need at full combat-readiness. Further work can be carried out in the Gorothad system.”

He nodded to Torqueda, who gave a satisfied smile. “Arrangements are in progress to secure the other ships you require. Moreover, the ground is prepared for the takeover on Gorothad and the other Throne Worlds.”

“We can expect to be unopposed?” Stolan’s tone made it quite clearly that this question only had one acceptable answer.

“Yes, by the time you reach us. I should advise you that Governor Nolten won’t stand with us. But then again,” he smiled viciously. “We do need at least a few individuals to make an example of, do we not?” A grim chuckle went around the table at that.

“And the rest?” Hux pressed.

Torqueda tipped his head just a little to one side. “Will fall in line readily enough. They’ll understand that good service is rewarded, and we have plenty of ambitious officers who’ll be glad of the new vacancies.”

“Beyond the Throne Worlds,” Hux mused, “the process will be longer, but we can take that at a leisurely pace. We will simply have to see who still has the nerve to resist after Ren is dead, and remove them.”

“Which should give us good sport,” General Parnadee said, with ample relish. “It might even drive some of them into the arms of the Resistance if they’re desperate enough, and thus lead us to the rabble’s bolt-holes. The purified First Order will scourge disorder from the Galaxy, once and for all.”

“That said,” Hux said, leaning forward. “While the present Supreme Leader draws breath, to speak of such things is distinctly premature.” He gave Torqueda’s hologram a piercing look.

The High Inquisitor met it with a confident expression. “All is in readiness. Ren’s mania about the Jedi girl will provide all the distraction we need, and Hauma and the junior officers know their duty. Should they survive, they will have their just rewards.”

Hux did feel a fleeting surge of disappointment at that. The hope of seeing Ren die had sustained him for two years, helping him endure the shame of serving his rival. Orbital bombardment wouldn’t even leave a body. Now, on the cusp of victory, Hux couldn’t suppress the sense that he had been cheated, just a little.

“And if they perish,” Stolan smiled grimly, “they will be martyrs, and continue to be of use in that. Either way, with Ren dead there will be no one to unite our opponents.”

“Then we are of one resolve,” Hux concluded. “My fleet makes for Gorothad in three hours. You all know your duty.”

Most of the holograms flickered out, and those officers who were present in the flesh filed out. The rest stood to depart but Hux lingered briefly, the light of holographic stars glittering in his eyes.

At least no one was actually pointing a gun at them when they trooped down the ramp, Finn supposed. Their meek acceptance of their would-be hosts’ terms on the way down seemed to be paying off in that regard.

Just like Poe said, they now had a better chance to examine the people they’d spent so long looking for. The grim Stormtrooper helmets were absent, and it looked like they’d clothed themselves with training fatigues and items from officers’ wardrobes.

Come to think of it, not all of them held themselves like military personnel. Which made sense: the number of enlisted crew on a ship often approached or even exceeded that of the troops aboard. Finn guessed they wouldn’t have had much incentive to side with their masters in a mutiny.

And there was definitely curiosity in a lot of the faces regarding them. Especially in the looks directed at Finn, regardless of whether they saw his saber or not.

“So,” he said to Poe, keeping his voice quiet. “Do we wait for them to choose someone to do the talking?”

Poe nodded towards the TIE which had led them down to the surface. Its embarkation ladder had come sliding down from the access hatch at its rear. “I’ve got a pretty good idea of who that’ll be.”

A young women came clambering down the ladder, and made straight for them. She had dark brown skin and an abundance of curly hair – the sort of hairstyle no Stormtrooper would ever have been permitted even if it could fit under the helmets. Not that she was wearing much of the old uniform anyway, except for a pilot’s gloves and boots.

She didn’t look as fierce as Finn had expected, but there was a wariness in her eyes as she regarded them all. The blaster in her right hand was held in a way that was meant to look cocksure, but after all his time with real gunslingers like Han, the Scrappers and Maz’s band, Finn could tell it was an act. The trademark Stormtrooper rigidity was still very much there under the swagger.

Unsurprisingly, she was the one to break the silence. “I really thought you’d be taller.”

“Well, I’ll take that over being shot. And, uh, now I’ve got your attention, I don’t go by FN-2187 any more. I’m Finn.” He extended a hand. She shook it, once she’d holstered her blaster.

“JN-3753.”

He’d wondered if they’d managed to break away from the numbers, but on some level it was still surprising to find out they hadn’t, to say nothing of saddening. He could feel from his friends that they felt much the same.

JN-3753 hadn’t finished, however. “So, you’re looking to what, recruit us?”

“I was rather hoping to save you guys first.” He raised his eyebrows. “You think we’re the only ones looking for you? We’ve already had a fight with the First Order over the clues that brought us here.”

Poe stepped forward. “Not that we’re trying to call in a debt that none of you knew about. But you ought to know that your old masters haven’t forgotten you. And we could do with your help.” He paused. “So who do we need to talk to?”

“Me,” JN responded. “Among others. The captain here, for one.”

Finn followed her gesture to a young man in a black jacket – it took him a moment or so to realised that it had been an officer’s uniform, though it clearly hadn’t seen an iron for a very long time. He didn’t look much older than anyone else here, though there was a short, scraggly beard on his face.

He made a beeline for Poe, though he stopped short of arm’s reach. “JN argued for us to bring you here. Didn’t realise just who’d found us - you’re Dameron, the Resistance captain, aren’t you?”

“Commander now, thanks. And you’re the captain of-” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the grounded Destroyer, letting the question hang.

“By default.”

“We killed the old one,” JN put in tersely. “This is Arron Raith.”

“So you’re not a Stormtrooper,” Finn addressed Arron. “You were an officer?”

“Lieutenant. Until my superiors died.” Finn caught a glance from Poe which said they _weren’t_ going to query that just yet. Arron wasn’t looking, addressing JN instead as he moved close to her. “We’ll give them a tour. The others can meet us at the lookout and…” the rest was inaudible. JN eyed Finn and the others some more, but merely nodded.

As tours went, this one was pretty subdued. Rose had expected them to draw the eye, but there was a character to the watchfulness, former troopers and former crew alike.

“I’d call this tranquil…” Kaydel said.

“But you know it’s not,” JN responded. She glanced up at the satellite dishes on a nearby roof, and one of the surface-to-air cannons which dotted the occupied part of the city.

“Everyone in this city’s wired,” Finn observed. “No wonder you were spoiling to fight us up there.”

Poe was trying to keep things on track. “How many of you are there?

Arron replied. “Three thousand and two hundred Stormtroopers, give or take. Three times that number in crew, some of them under arms. Couple dozen officers.” Rose saw the look on Finn’s face – there ought to be three times that number of Stormtroopers on a fully crewed ship of that class. And many more crew.

The unpleasant question was beginning to take form in their minds: just what had happened in the mutiny? By some collective instinct, they left it unasked for the moment.

Instead, Rose queried: “And what shape’s the _Vehement_ in?”

“Pristine on the outside. There was plenty of internal damage, but we’ve had plenty of time to repair since we came out here. We even recycled some of the smashed vehicles.” He pointed to a solar panel on a nearby roof. Seen close to, it had clearly been salvaged from a TIE Fighter.

The more they saw, the clearer it became to Rose that this wasn’t really a settlement. It was all one huge camp, ready to be packed up at a moment’s notice. Just how quickly and cleanly they could do that, she wasn’t sure. JN and Arron elaborated on their living arrangements; plenty of people still bunked on the _Vehement_ full-time, and more rotated on and off to make sure the ship was always ready to start up and depart.

At Poe’s request, they ventured over to the gorge where the Destroyer lay. Seen close-up, it was more of a steep-sided valley, with a winding track which led down to the bottom and allowed for access to the _Vehement_. There was a ridge overlooking it, which at least gave them a good view.

“Venerer-class,” Rose observed. “You lucked out there.”

Arron simply nodded, and Rose kept peering curiously at the ship. As the resident engineer, she’d studied pretty much every First Order design in use, helping to keep Poe’s crew ready for anything they might run into. But this was the first Venerer she’d seen up close.

The design was derived from the old Venator-class, deployed in the Clone Wars and early years of the Empire. It was smaller and more lightly armed than the likes of the Resurgence, but crucially, it was designed with terrestrial landings in mind. These ships were specifically conceived with solo operations in mind, and so that capability had been brought back.

They’d rigged up more solar panels and power feeds down there, many on the ship’s hull. Enough to keep its systems ticking over on minimal power, Rose guessed.

Arron and his fellow officers ran a pretty tight ship, and did it well as far as she was any judge. For food, they had rations for a much bigger crew than they numbered now. Added to that were the ship’s hydroponics stations, as well as hunting and foraging in the surrounding jungle. Beyond the city, there was a lot to eat on Omunak – pending a check for toxins.

“JN’s lot, the troopers, are especially keen on that,” Arron told them.

JN shrugged. “It keeps us in practice, and we get to feel useful. Hey,” she added. “That’s the rest of them now.”

A few figures were coming up the trail from the valley floor. Like Arron, they all seemed to be dressed in the remains of officer uniforms. That was curious, Rose thought.

Poe had been quiet, but now he stirred, seeming to come to a decision. “We’ll meet and greet, but Rey and Kaydel, I want you two back at the Falcon. I’m sure the Scrappers are sitting tight, but Maz could use an update.”

Both the other women looked reluctant, but Rey glanced at Kaydel and they nodded. “We’ll give them the good news.”

JN pointed to a couple of ex-troopers. “58, A4, go with them.” Then, to the remaining three, “Let’s introduce you.”


	24. Coup

Gorothad and its myriad orbital defences were laid out in perfect detail before Torqueda, the holograms glowing brightly in the low light of the strategium. Beyond the web of satellites and space stations, the defence fleet held to geostationary orbit, spread out above the planet’s gravity well.

The display didn’t show it, but Torqueda knew there would be hundreds of civilian craft moving through space, each one tracked by the guns of one Star Destroyer or another. To say nothing of the TIE craft which carried out the endless patrols – though if he chose, he could make those visible as well.

A little chime accompanied the appearance of a bulk freighter some way out from the fleet. It was a little longer than a Resurgence-class Star Destroyer and far more bulky, packed with goods of one sort or another. Out of habit, Torqueda called up a copy of the ship’s manifest. One of the defence fleet’s ships would send a company aboard to screen the cargo nonetheless, and ensure that everything was in order.

This was all routine, and it wasn’t what Torqueda was watching for; that hadn’t shown just yet. But he could wait. The Inquisition taught patience, as evidenced by the Enforcers who stood to attention behind him. The next step would have to be done quickly, but there was a different between moving fast and rushing. An Inquisitor, if they lasted long enough, learned to be a coiled spring.

Finally, there was a chime from his comms unit. “Ah, it appears that the show has begun.” He leaned forward, gazing keenly at an empty expanse of space close to the planet. Even the Enforcers shifted a little at that as an alert began to ring softly from the console. He permitted himself a smile as civilian craft scattered. It was always good to see that they knew their place.

Hux’s fleet streaked into orbit, still showing heavy damage. No matter – there were orbital docks where that could be quickly repaired. What mattered more was the defence fleet moving to intercept.

Torqueda’s hand moved straight to the comms switch, opening a channel to the fleet. “Stand down,” he said, calmly, waiting for the commodore’s inevitable objection before carrying on. “This is the High Inquisitor speaking. You will stand down and permit the General to make planetfall.” The commodore backed down.

A few minutes later, he received the missive he had been expecting. “And now,” he sighed, turning to the blast doors, “the predictable next step.”

The gates parted to admit Governor Nolten, who looked equal parts appalled and enraged. He skipped any preamble: “How long have you known?”

“How long have I-”

“Don’t – play – coy, Torqueda!” Each word was accompanied by an accusing jab of the finger, which almost moved Torqueda to laughter given the circumstances. “You must have known something about this, so what is Hux trying to do by returning here without giving notice of his intent? Half his fleet should still be dry-docked.”

“I don’t doubt that Ren would be annoyed at the bad example it might set,” Torqueda replied airily. “However, he will be occupied with matters of an altogether more profound gravity.”

He was quite pleased with that line. Sadly Nolten was too worked up to take the hint. “Nonetheless, the Supreme Leader should be informed!” the Governor snapped. “Whatever his or Hux’s position, this is an irregularity such as the First Order does not tolerate!”

Torqueda watched Nolten move towards the console on the table. That small-mindedness, he reflected, was why Snoke had made Nolten a planetary Governor and not one of his Generals. It was the sort of thinking that led a man to blindly follow Kylo Ren, instead of seeing the alternatives.

To say nothing of how Torqueda had been left to essentially run planetary security all this time. He still couldn’t see what was happening around him. Despite all the evidence, he really seemed to believe Torqueda had just been negligent in breaching protocol. Such doltishness was really quite tragic, though at least it afforded Torqueda the chance to have a little fun now.

“I wouldn’t trouble yourself, Calyv.” He had to suppress a chuckle at how Nolten flinched at the use of his first name, in a way that was visible even stood behind him. He carried on as if he hadn’t seen the reaction, his tone urbane. “It’s all part of the plan.”

“All part-” Nolten wheeled. “ _You?_ ”

Torqueda, blaster already raised, nodded apologetically. It wouldn’t be polite to gloat, after all. “Me.”

He put two shots in Nolten’s knee. The Governor stayed on his feet for a good few seconds, eyes bulging and face turning crimson. Then he dropped, writhing and screaming on the floor. Impressive fortitude, Torqueda thought. A pity to waste it, but this was what they had been forced into.

He switched the setting to stun, pointed his gun at Nolten’s face and fired again. The man went limp. Two Stormtroopers moved in, cuffing the unconscious Governor before dragging him away.

Torqueda turned back to the comms console. “Issue the signal. Our new Supreme Leader has arrived, and he has requested some adjustments to the Gorothad Executive. Proceed as arranged.”

The order was carried out at speed. Lockdown was imposed, the traffic which thronged the city grinding to a halt. Communications were frozen, as were all media. The vast propaganda screens broadcast only the order that stopped the planet in its tracks. Unofficial channels were silenced across the First Order’s territory.

In orbit too, the clampdown was enacted. The Star Destroyers – both Hux’s fleet and the heavy Maxima-class ships of the defence flotilla – moved swiftly into a blockade formation, oriented around the massive shapes of Golan-IV gun-platforms. They had already undergone their own purges, unseen by anyone else.

Quite abruptly, the only people moving in or above the great city were those carrying out Torqueda and Hux’s orders. Both Enforcers and Stormtroopers were on the prowl.

They moved quickly and purposefully, not giving anyone a second to question or even think, if they could help it. Where they went on foot, people stepped out of their path and did their best to hide. Those who were foolish or unlucky enough to bar their passage were clubbed roughly out of the way or, if they were judged expendable, simply shot. Traffic parted hurriedly for their transports.

No one was told where they were going, no one was told to expect them. But across Gorothad, its orbital facilities and the other Throne Worlds, people were suddenly hearing the knock at the door.

“Preposterous!” spluttered Minister Wolval to the enforcement troopers stood at the door to the Chambers of Commerce. “Our personnel are vetted and audited biannually. There are no traitors within my ministry, and I will make my displeasure clear to your masters in no uncertain terms.”

His underlings had been doing their best to shoo away the intruders. Not strictly intruders of course; the Inquisition’s word was that of the law. But the Enforcers had refused to move as higher and higher-ranked officials were sent to reason with them.

Surely they had better things to do? Weren't there millions of larcenous wretches down in the lower levels who needed keeping in line, instead of the First Order's own diligent servants?

Apparently not. So finally Wolval had been forced to move from his office and come down here himself. The Minister of Commerce, contending with bloody Enforcers.

The sergeant in front of him, on the other side of the glass doors, hadn’t changed his stolid demeanour through thirty-two minutes of standoff. “The High Inquisitor has dispatched us here to apprehend a threat to First Order security. You will permit us to enter.” The other nine troopers were just as still.

Wolval swallowed his irritation and pressed on. Anything to get them out of here. “ _If_ we indeed had traitors within our ranks here, we would be the first to bring them to your attention.”

“Then show us. Let us in so that we can acquire our target, and we will leave you to your business.” The sergeant paused. “Or we can keep standing here until a full division of Stormtroopers is deployed, this door broken down, the Chambers of Commerce scoured from bottom to top and you are hauled in for the obstruction of Inquisitorial business.”

Wolval inhaled angrily through his nose, staring into the blank eye-lenses. “ _Fine_.” He signalled to the guard by the security console.

The doors swung open.

“This had better be quick.”

And it was very quick indeed. The sergeant took one step forward and smashed the butt of his rifle into Wolvan’s stomach. The Minister of Commerce folded, wheezing. Two troopers grabbed him by the arms and bundled him toward their transport. Four of their comrades escorted them, while the other three remained at their gates with the sergeant.

The officer glanced at the bewildered officials and security personnel before dismissing them. “Wolval’s deputy is Minister now. Return to your work.” Without a backwards look, he marched back to the transport.

Not every target was worth the trouble of arresting, of course. There were plenty of functionaries who were best done away with and replaced as quickly as possible.

Torqueda’s many analysts and investigators had been working flat-out to identify potentially unreliable elements. Not necessarily disloyal, but those who might not be able to reconcile their fealty to the previous Supreme Leader with the allegiance they owed the new one.

In a regime like the First Order, where future soldiers were conscripted by the million and discarded in their thousands over the course of training, it was considered better to remove than recondition in such cases.

The Palace of Discipline, the watch-fortresses and Stormtrooper garrisons hosted brief but vicious flurries of violence. Soldiers and lawkeepers were abruptly gunned down by their comrades, the bodies dragged off and stunned menials left to clear up the resulting mess.

And by no means was Gorothad the only world where such actions were being undertaken. Across the Throne Worlds, Hux’s faction were on the move, killing swiftly and dispassionately both on the surface and in orbit.

Above Vorsk, one patrol frigate’s captain began to feel a certain suspicion as he watched the orders come in, and more strongly as an Enforcer gunship, launched from a newly arrived Star Destroyer, approached his ship and transmitted clearance codes. They carried General Parnadee’s own authorisation to inspect the ship.

The captain’s face showed no visible emotion. Calmly, he notified the boarders that he needed to attend to something in his quarters but would be with them imminently.

The Enforcers came straight to the captain’s quarters. When they cut through the door, they found him stood in front of his personal comms signal, partway through dictating an outbound message. Their immediate response was to open fire, killing the captain and wrecking the console.

They assumed that would be the end of it.

Two statements were issued from the Palace in quick succession, echoing through the fearful hush. The first proclaimed the Supreme Leader dead, shedding no light on the circumstances of his death but assuring the populace that stability would be maintained.

The second was with regard to the arrests and judicial murders being carried out. The victims were declared conspirators and abettors to regicide. Exactly which ruler’s death they were accused of a part in went unspecified as well.

The citizens of Gorothad weren’t entirely new to these upheavals. After all, it was intrigue and murder which had brought Snoke to the throne, decades before, and the old Supreme Leader had no qualms about enforcing his rule by those means. There had always been dissidents and schemers to be periodically rooted out.

So the world held its breath, waiting to see what would come next.

“This is an _enormously_ unnecessary pain in the arse,” Girse Brun pronounced. The generously proportioned magnate hauled himself out of the theatre, fuming as he made his way back into the lobby. His wife, valet and aides tailed behind him. “Supreme Leader dead, all commissions frozen! It will take days just to calm the board down, never mind adjusting to whoever’s taking charge now.”

Everything about this was inconvenient, right down to the message arriving in the middle of the opera. Best seats in the best house on Gorothad, and he had been called away from the performance.

This was especially irksome when his shipyard on Kovant had just finished the construction of a full squadron of Star Destroyers. Now it would be weeks until he had final payment for them, to say nothing of the finished ships occupying the docks and delaying further work. There would be a rise in the price when the new man in charge came to collect, oh yes there would. Girse Brun didn’t like to wait on First Order bureaucracy, and he liked to share his displeasure when his business was interfered with.

“If this was Hux’s doing,” he grumbled, “then the pompous bloody whey-faced twerp has cost me a month’s profits.” Not to mention wasting tickets which cost more credits than most Gorothad citizens made in a year. The opera hadn’t even been that good, but it was the _principle_ of the thing. “I will demand accommodations in return for my silence if that is the case.”

There were more than a few First Order apparatchiks emerging from the auditorium, apparently responding to the same message which had interrupted Brun. It just meant more crowding, more irritation.

Brun warmed to his theme. “We’d never have had this problem when Snoke was in charge, a Supreme Leader didn’t just go and get himself killed back then.”

“Snoke did get himself killed,” his wife pointed out in a disinterested way, cradling her pet Tooka.

“Your comments are no less unhelpful than the circumstances,” Brun grumbled. "And at least Snoke waited a good long time before-"

Then the Enforcers who’d come up behind him jabbed their tasers into his back. Brun only managed a strangled yelp before he went limp. By then the Enforcers had taken hold of him, not missing a beat despite the magnate’s not inconsiderable weight. They left his wife and the help standing shellshocked in the lobby.


	25. Making Friends

Nyzar sat back, arms folded. “Not keen on this, Captain.”

Kaydel paused, her arms full of ration packs as she watched the show. Rey’s hands were on her hips, her eyebrow comically arched as the slender young woman stared down the burly Zabrak. “Orders are orders, Nyzar. We’re eating with the escapees.”

That was an important distinction they'd decided to make: escapees, not deserters.

Tannell chuckled as he picked up a couple of water canteens and headed down the ramp, passing a bemused Ki’rii.

Rey and Kaydel had decided that they ought to make themselves properly visible to the _Vehement_ ’s crew. If they were lucky, they might even strike up a conversation or two, and it was lunchtime in any case. So after they’d radioed the fleet, Rey had declared that they would eat outside, in view of the locals.

“This is so very you, Nyzar,” LM put in. “You go into battle without a squeak of complaint for two years, and now we’re just asked to have lunch with strangers…”

“All right,” Nyzar conceded, running his fingers around the short horns which crowned his scar-ridged head. He looked at Kaydel. “You’re sure they’re no threat? Just jittery kids, like the Captain says?”

“They’re about our age.” Rey’s gesture took in herself, Kaydel and Ki’rii.

The two ex-gladiators exchanged a look. “Kids,” LM grated sagely. Chewbacca rumbled disapprovingly. Rey just rolled her eyes.

“Look, I know you’re about to say that could still be dangerous, but as long as we don’t visibly have fingers on triggers, they won’t.”

“You two are very lucky in your commanding officers,” Kaydel said. Heck, even Poe would probably have given them a telling off had he been here. The Resistance weren’t authoritarian types by any means, but they understood the value of proper discipline.

Especially after Crait, though on that occasion, the guilty parties had been left to work through it themselves. Which in Kaydel’s case had meant weeks of stewing in her own head, until Rey came to her and offered to help… The memory of that was enough to put a smile back on her face.

Rey tapped her foot. “And the commanding officer says, get your backsides out there. You too, Lieutenant,” she winked at Kaydel.

“On it,” she replied.

The other Scrappers were already sat down and eating down by the ramp – and holding tentative conversations with some of the former troopers and crew members, Kaydel noted. That would make their job here a little easier, hopefully.

Some of it was probably down to the composition of the group. Stormtroopers, according to Finn, didn’t see many people from other species either during their training or afterwards. They certainly didn’t get to interact with them peacefully.

Olesin wasn’t having any of it, parking himself in the shade and wearing an expression as stony as Kaydel had ever seen on him. By unspoken agreement, the solitary Kaleesh was left to it. He’d fight tenaciously for his comrades in battle, but he was rarely anything but a grouch outside it. Fortunately, the droids and Gial were ably distracting the spectators.

Kaydel took a seat on one of the containers, watching Tannell show off his vibrosword to one of the troopers. A shadow passed over her briefly, and she looked up to see Rey.

“Good call, Rey. Looks like we’re popular.”

Rey’s head bobbed, a little smile playing across her face as she reached for a ration pack and opened it. “BB-8 might actually feel like he’s had enough attention for once, today.”

Kaydel snorted. “Fat chance. People are listening to Threepio, that’s our one miracle for the day used up.”

One particularly youthful crew member glanced at them nervously, halfway to crouching down and petting Gial. Rey waved at her to carry on, smiling. “We’ve never known him to bite.”

“Maybe we should head to Ach-To after this,” Kaydel said. “Round up a whole bunch of Porgs – I mean, take a load of our new gunships and load ‘em right up. Then we’ll go all over the Galaxy and pose with them. Our armies will dwarf the First Order within a week!”

Rey dissolved into giggles, planting a hand on Kaydel’s thigh as she bent double. “That’s a wicked, wicked idea, Kaydel. Kidnapping Porgs!”

To see Rey let her composure drop gave Kaydel a little rush, but she kept her tone resolutely deadpan. “You did it to Gial.”

“He was a stowaway and you know it.” But her tone was playful, and the hand on Kaydel’s thigh squeezed gently. Kaydel drew a little breath, and felt the colour rising in her cheeks.

She leaned over and kissed Rey. “Don’t worry, Jedi. Your diabolical secret’s safe with me.” She reached for a pack of crisped vegetables and offered them. “Seconds?”

Rey grinned. “I’ll take a few. Remember, we’ve gotta leave some for the others.”

JN and Arron had led Finn, Rose and Poe up one of the higher towers, one of the few which didn’t seem to be a lookout post. Apparently the division’s de facto leaders had taken it for a communal space, reminding Finn of his and Poe’s favoured perch at the Agnoa base.

They went through introductions and desultory small talk, but before too long, Finn decided they were ready to have the conversation he’d come here for.

“So.” He sat back. “Our intel says you were meant to quell a rebellion on Ublest, but disappeared on the way there. What happened?”

The other officers looked to JN, who stared cautiously back at Finn. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because, leaving aside what it means to the Resistance… you’re the only other Stormtroopers I’ve ever known to step away from the First Order. I’m curious to know how it happened, and how it ended with you here.”

The young woman seemed to shrink a little, gazing into the fire. “We were fresh out of the academy, and just before we got out the rumours reached us. Stories about a Stormtrooper who renounced the First Order and escaped.”

“It wasn’t just the Stormtroopers,” Arron added. He caught Finn’s eye and explained, “I didn’t enlist willingly. A lot of us were pushed into the Academy. It might sound weird, but your story was inspiring to us as well.”

JN nodded, but a haunted look had crept onto her face. “So we mutinied.”

Finn shifted uneasily in his seat, remembering how Phasma had gunned down those Stormtroopers on the _Supremacy_ when they hesitated. “Why do I get the feeling that didn’t end well?”

“Because it didn’t. The captain ordered a purge immediately. There were still a good thousand veterans aboard and we couldn’t sway them.” She shuddered. “We tore into other. It was a miracle that they didn’t manage to blow the reactor, but stars’ end, we bled for it, and we made them bleed too.” Her expression was strained, tears welling up in her eyes. “I put down comrades, people in my own colours. Parts of the same system I was meant to belong to.”

“And then?” Finn pressed her.

“I keeled over.” She shook her head, the ghost of a laugh hissing between her teeth. “All of us did, literally. We fought for three hours on that ship before we’d killed everyone trying to kill us. Made a jump to the middle of nowhere and we all just… collapsed.” She slumped forward a little. “It was easier to fall down that get up the next day. The weight of it just fell on us – what we’d done, how alone we were.”

Part of him wanted to argue against that. _You weren’t alone. You could’ve come to us_. Those thoughts came easily to Finn, but he knew they weren’t the full truth. Because if you said that, you failed to understand that quitting the legions didn’t just mean stepping out of a cage. It meant leaving the very framework of your life.

He’d been there. Before he’d stepped outside it properly – before he’d met Poe, Rey and especially Rose – his conception of the Galaxy beyond the legions had been stunted. He’d had a vague idea of how civilians lived, but he hadn’t understood them. They were this nebulous mass outside the regimented order of a Stormtrooper’s life.

And a Stormtrooper didn’t stop believing the propaganda they were brought up on just because they didn’t believe in the First Order any more. If anything, the overwhelming size of the regime and its armies loomed even larger once you were out of it. He remembered the punishment beatings which were a case in point – the offender would be set against a little phalanx of fellow cadets. An individual against the unified, weak and easily battered down.

And the _Vehement_ ’s crew would had seen more than he had before deserting. The Hosnian Atrocity, the subjugation of Republic worlds and the bloody reprisals meted out to any who held out. To expect them to think the Resistance could keep them safe would be a bad joke.

So he let her carry on, uninterrupted. “We patched up the damage, gave the dead to the void… and ran.”

“And since then, you’ve been here?”

“After twenty-six days of wandering, yes. We came across an old wreck-” the spy’s recordings had mentioned that, Finn remembered “-dug around in it, got some obscure navigation charts and found our way here.”

“Well, I like what you’ve done with the place.” He looked again at the quiet orderliness of the settlement. There was a slightly brittle edge to it. For all that it seemed peaceful, there was still that constant tension there. “Is it always this quiet? I haven’t even heard anyone argue down here.”

She gave a small shrug, looking out at the jungle beyond the walls. “We’ve got to be. All we’ve got is each other.”

“You could have a lot more than that.” That brought her eyes back to him. He saw wariness there, but there was something else behind it. Hope perhaps – a hope she didn’t quite dare to believe in yet. Glancing around, he saw the same thing in the others’ eyes.

He also shot Poe and Rose a look. They both smiled and Poe gave a little shake of the head, an implicit _you’ve got this_.

“I’m not gonna lie, it means trading the quietly fearful life for putting yourself straight in the line of fire, but if you don’t take this risk, then you may never get to breathe free.”

“We’re free here.” She said it vehemently, but she could clearly tell that the words came off a little hollow, despite how much she tried to make herself believe it. “And if the First Order are hunting here, we’ll up sticks. The Galaxy’s a big place.”

Finn shook his head, letting his sadness show. “What you’ve got here isn’t real freedom. And I get that it feels safe to a point. I nearly chose this life myself, taking a ship to way out and disappearing on a nowhere world.” He leaned forward, looking her straight in the eye. “But I see the way your people look up every time a cloud crosses the sky or there’s a loud noise way off. Every man and woman in this city is waiting for the day when the First Order finally appears over your world and you have to either fight or flee.”

“Well, what’s the alternative?” Her voice cracked a little, though she did her best to make it into a laugh. “Take down the regime that controls the Galaxy?”

He resisted the urge to remind her that the First Order was already hunting them. After all, he wanted them to want to take the Resistance's side.

“It sounded crazy to me too,” he said, injecting some warmth into his voice. “But then I saw how the First Order treats the rest of the Galaxy, not just us. And I learned how good it felt to give them one in the eye. You heard about Phasma?”

She eyed him as though she was afraid of saying something foolish. “There were… rumours about Phasma.”

“Including how she dropped the shields on the Starkiller, and threw her own men under the tank when she got called on it?” He hadn’t realised how matter-of-factly he talked about that these days until he saw the look on her face. He almost laughed, but then he got a hold of himself and carried on, riding the wave of passion he’d raised up inside himself. “Because that’s the weakness the First Order has been hiding all this time. They tell us and everyone else that we’re weak, to make themselves seem unstoppable.”

He saw her begin to object and rushed on.

“I’m not saying that it’s easy to fight them, far from it. But I know how it feels when you win out, against the odds. Because it’s not just about destroying the thing you hate. It’s about finding things you never even dreamed of before, things and people that you come to love. That’s when you understand what it means to _really_ be free, and after that first taste you just want more, for yourself and for others. It’s when you stop asking what chance you have, and start asking _what choice_ do we have but to resist their evil with everything we've got?”

He stopped, catching his breath. She was watching him in silence. They all were.

“You have a chance to show the Galaxy that the First Order isn’t as tough as they want everyone to think. And you’ve already thrown off the colours. Close enough to being free that you might as well go the distance, right? On which note…” he smiled. “My friend Poe says you should never turn a person into a number. So, JN… if it’s alright with you, I’m gonna call you Jannah from now on.”

“Jannah...” she sat back, almost trying it on. “Jan-nah. Yeah,” she said, a smile finally breaking out on her face. “I like that.”

“Glad to hear it.” He leaned forward, holding out his hand a little. “I need you to gather your people together tomorrow morning. Whatever space is big enough to fit all of you. For now though, I need some sleep.”

He’d barely turned the corner when Rose turned and thudded into him, hugging him tightly.

“Hey, hey!” he laughed, returning the embrace. “Is this the bit where you say you’re proud of me?”

“ _So_ proud.” Her voice was a little muffled by his shirt.

“Well, you know.” He glanced up at the deep blue sky, then looked at her. “I had some very good influences.”


	26. Rhetoric

The seizures and killings on Gorothad had run through the night and much of the day. Thousands were taken by the Stormtroopers and Enforcers as Hux tightened his grip. Some of them had been identified weeks and even months before. Others had just recently condemned themselves, whether by expressing a doubt that Kylo Ren was dead or suggesting that, all things considered, it was rather convenient for Hux to have just now returned to Gorothad when the throne was vacant.

The same pattern of events had run across the Throne Worlds, and before long the purge would be carried right across the First Order’s domain. For now, the planets turned in silence, their people waiting tremulously to hear what the new tyrant’s intentions were. They feared him, but there was little of no respect in the eyes which turned to holo-reels and scanned the vast propaganda screens.

After all, it was times like this that the First Order showed most clearly its contempt for the ordinary people. They were beneath its notice, unless they got in the way of the internal bloodletting. In which case they became a hindrance and were quickly removed. A few more thousand dead, here and there. A small enough sum to the First Order.

When it was all over, Hux stepped out of the Palace and surveyed his new domain. _Truly, Ren, it is a pity that you didn’t live to see this._

Clouds gathered darkly above the Palace. The pressure was high, suggesting a storm soon to break. Hux welcomed it. A cleansing downpour to scour away the lingering taint of Kylo Ren.

Great banners had been unfurled across the front of the Palace, the black icon of the First Order on stark white. Hux’s forces were arrayed on the plaza in unmoving ranks, with nervous civilian staff stood further back. Elsewhere were the camera crews who would broadcast his words to the Galaxy, but dead ahead that was a scaffold, and that drew Hux’s eye. There, ten figures in dishevelled uniforms stood, Executioner troopers standing over them.

The scaffold included a podium, and Hux made his way to it. Stolan, Torqueda and other officers flanked him as he stepped up. It was immaculately arranged, and the cameras would capture it with just as much precision. That was the way of First Order propaganda, nothing out of place. The merciless perfection of the regime, Hux’s regime, was captured in every image.

One of the crouching men – Governor Nolten – turned his head briefly to glare at Hux and got a sharp jab in the ribs for his trouble. Hux smiled thinly, before he turned to the cameras.

“Citizens of the First Order!” He paused as his amplified voice echoed back at him, savouring the knowledge that the entire system was hanging on his words. Soon enough, the whole Galaxy would heed them.

On the way here, he’d considered beginning softly and rejected the idea. Let them be shocked. Let them understand the magnitude of events. “As you have heard, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren is dead. Now hear this – he was killed on Omunak, on my orders, for the crime which we all know he committed – the murder of his revered predecessor Snoke.”

Two years he’d waited to utter those words, and he relished them. Gorothad, he fancied, had never been so silent.

“This is not an act of rebellion. By contrast, it is an entirely necessary purge. Too long have the First Order’s ideals been perverted by instability at its very apex, by a regicide on the throne. All of us, from the lowest menial to the generals and governors by whose word the Galaxy is kept under control, were complicit, for we dared not speak out.”

Let that be the blade set to hang over his underlings from now on. “Before you are men who served Ren’s aberrant rule and stood in the way of his removal. Now behold the awful price of their mistakes.” For complicity in Ren’s many offences against the dignity of the First Order, no sentence could be too severe. Anyone who doubted Hux’s fitness to rule would have to reckon with that implicit threat.

“Where could this have led,” he demanded, “but to total collapse unless stable, rational authority was reimposed?” He gave the question a few seconds to bed down in the minds of those listening. “For that reason, I have accepted the burden of rulership to ensure that true order is maintained in the Galaxy. I shall be your Supreme Leader.” Stormtrooper fists punched upwards, a forest of white-armoured limbs. The civilians behind them raised their hands too, with rather more hesitance.

Hux noted that. Well, if they feared him then that was all to the good. “And as my first official act, I sentence these wretches, who have spat on the ideals of the First Order, to death! Let them serve as an example to all.” With those words ringing across the plaza, the prisoners were hauled to the blocks. The Executioners stepped forward, their electro-axes snapping into life.

Hux tilted his head back. Beyond those leaden clouds, his fleet was locking into formation, soon to move out and quell whatever enemies remained. He spread his arms wide, voice rising to a spittle-flecked snarl. “Rejoice, for today the promise of the First Order is honoured. Today, our commitment to proper governance is reaffirmed. Today, we are again united in our purpose to deliver the Galaxy from the false idols of democracy and freedom! Forth our legions will march to a thousand new conquests! Eternal, immutable victory!”

And on that last syllable, the axes swept down, a dozen simultaneous _snaps_ and thumps serving to hammer home Hux’s speech. He breathed in slowly, relishing the stillness in the air. Gorothad itself – and beyond, the entire First Order – waited on his command.

After all this time and all his trials, the mantle of supremacy had come to him. And whatever he had said about burdens and solemnity, Hux intended to enjoy that power a very deal.

All it would take now was the confirmation of Ren’s death.

Finn too was facing an audience, though with far less relish than Hux. They were out of the midday sun, but even in the shade, the heat was unhelpfully intense. “Man, that’s a whole heap of people.”

Poe nudged him. “You asked for all the ex-troopers, you got ‘em.”

“And a lot more besides.” It appeared that all the escapees had gathered in the square, trooper and crewman alike. Next to the dais that stood at one end, Finn couldn’t quite see to the back of the crowd.

But there could be no backing out. After hearing Jannah’s story, he hadn’t been able to shake the sense that in some way, he owed them. Or rather, that he could show them the way to something better than scratching a living here. Not to mention the debt they owed to everyone who’d given their lives to get them to here.

Rey stepped up next to him. “Feeling ready?”

“I think so.”

“You are.” She had the same smile she’d worn after they’d escaped Jakku, the day they first met. “The Force is with you, Finn.” Then the others stepped back, leaving him alone by the stand.

He closed his eyes, repeating the old manta. _The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force_. He felt himself become centred and the turbulence inside him died away. And before he could think any further, his legs were carrying him up onto the dais.

An expectant hush gripped the crowd. Jannah stood before him, but as Finn approached, she inclined her head and backed away.

They stared up at him with a mixture of trepidation, curiosity and something else – a hope that they didn’t quite dare to acknowledge. But he could feel it, through the Force. Emboldened, he drew a breath and spoke.

“I know you,” he began, running his gaze over the crowd. “I’ve been you. I know what it means to stop being a Stormtrooper. And how hard it is to become anything else, because we’ve never once been allowed to be anything else.”

His eyes roved over them, looking for anyone who might challenge that, but they just stared back. “We were raised without anything to call our own, meant to fight when we had nothing to fight for. And then you realise that there’s a choice and you decide you’re not going to kill for the First Order, but once you’re through that fight you find yourself unmoored.” Jannah had said that quite clearly.

“That was me, stumbling through, just trying to get away. But then I met people who wouldn’t call a person by a number, who’d fight for someone who they’d never met before.” He hardened his tone, drew himself up. “The only reason we feel lost is that no one ever taught us what freedom really means.”

Now the next step, the one he’d discussed with Rose and Poe. Because he’d realised that there was one lingering influence from the First Order which the escaees hadn’t shaken off yet. The lack of a true name for any Stormtrooper, and the barrier it created between them and anyone else. He’d seen the looks of surprise on the faces of Arron and others when he gave Jannah her name. It had never crossed their minds to do that. Maybe, after so long serving their old masters, they didn’t even imagine it was possible to do away with it.

Well, no more. “And sometimes it just takes someone to give you a way to value it. Even as little as a name, _so._ ” He stepped down from the dais, his eyes finding a young man. He stretched out a hand. “Hey pal. What did they call you?”

“JC-3761.”

“That’s not a name.” Finn put an arm round the youth’s shoulders and wheeled him round to face the rest. Somewhere behind him, LM-976 turned to Nyzar and shrugged. “So you know what, people? From now on, this man here is Jaicyn.”

“Jaicyn.” Just like Jannah, the youth repeated the name, trying it on.

Emboldened, Finn turned to his friends, seeing the broad smile on Poe’s face, and beckoned them forward. “We’re gonna work through you guys. Former ratings here, anyone who isn’t called by a number, join us. No one leaves here with a Stormtrooper tag.”

A strange euphoria built among the former Stormtroopers as names were improvised and handed out. Poe got into it immediately. Rey and the others were more hesitant, but they soon hit their stride.

And the former troopers too, the ones who’d just been gifted names of their own, were taking a hand. Giving out names they’d heard in passing, improvised or maybe even half-remembered from childhood. The last barrier between them and the enlisted personnel was crumbling, one more reminder of their old masters falling away.

Finally, Finn took to the stand again and raised a hand to quiet the babble. “My friends, I don’t want to have to ask this of you, but what you have now, the First Order _will_ take away. Not just from you, but from families across the Galaxy. So many of them will know the same pain as yours.”

He drew a breath, letting the words sink in. “I won’t order you to fight, but if you want to live free, the tyrants have to fall. They wanted you to subjugate the Galaxy in their name. Choose to be the ones to liberate it.”

Jaicyn and Jannah shouted their assent, immediately joined by the others. Finn actually rocked back a little on his heels, a huge grin spreading over his face. He looked down at Rey and Rose, both of them smiling proudly back at him.

For a moment, he just revelled in it. Then he gathered himself, cupped his hands to his mouth, and called for quiet. The hubbub died away. “Then we’ve gotta get to work. Everything you need has to be on that Destroyer this time tomorrow. Are you ready?”

This time, the cheer shook the city.


	27. Ren's Dark Arts

The _Subjugator_ and its lessers held formation under the light of a bloated red star, on the edge of the Tion Sector. The way that the ruby light played across the grey hulls of his ships was pleasing to Ren. Somehow it seemed like a favourable omen, though he was too hardened to imagine it was any such thing.

The twenty ships that remained to him, after leaving the others to occupy his new conquests, were all he would put his faith in here. He didn’t trust omens or prophecies any more. Not after his vision of Rey turning to the Dark had been proved false.

She occupied his thoughts more and more, as their confrontation drew near. His words to Yimur a few days ago had been firm, but they had merely disguised his uncertainty. Breaking her and binding her to the Ren and killing her were two very different propositions, even if he had spoken of them in the same breath. Which was it to be? In truth, he hadn’t yet decided.

_When I face her again, I will know_ , he told himself. _Circumstances may also dictate the outcome_.

Certainly Rey had earned either fate when she refused him. Had she only accepted, there would be no Resistance today. He’d have had the Galaxy under his boot, and he’d have had her.

Anger flared in his chest. _You had your chance, Rey, and forfeited any right to choose again._

Footsteps behind him. The prim, measured movements of Pryde.

Ren turned to regard him. “Allegiant General.” Beside him, Yimur briefly inclined his head. That was the closest any of the Knights got to bowing to anyone except their master.

“Supreme Leader, the fleet is ready to begin our sweep of the sector. The analysts have begun to identify potential boltholes for the deserters.”

“Unnecessary,” Ren said. “I have a means to locate them. Just prepare for the jump to hyperspace, and have the legions ready for immediate deployment.”

Pryde inclined his head. “I will defer to your arts, Supreme Leader.”

If only, Ren thought, all his officers had such faith. The doubters kept their faces blank, but Ren could feel the mix of scepticism and fear which hung over them. That new lieutenant, whose freshly stitched cuts were still an angry red, briefly drew his gaze again. The youth’s eyes flicked briefly to his and then back to his console.

No fondness for him there, but Ren didn’t care to make an issue of it. He had the obedience of his subordinates, and had no need of their admiration. Soon they’d have no reason to doubt his abilities.

Ren strode to the exit with Yimur at his side. The other Knights detached themselves from the shadows and joined them.

Back to his chambers, where the darkness seemed to hang more heavily than it did anywhere else on the ship. The black marble floor was graven with astrological patterns, a web of lines and spheres that glinted, ominously. The light that they caught was thrown back colder.

Those who knew where to look would discern a certain pattern, and perceive its resonance. The Knights recognised it. They had made some use of it before, directed by Ren. All of them had learned a great deal during their pilgrimage.

Ren paused for a moment, before Yimur broke the silence. “Is it time, Master?”

“Yes.” The Knights took up their positions, each moving to a ring carved on the floor. Two lay empty, but the six living Knights should suffice for this. Yimur drew his sword and sank to his knees, laying the weapon on the floor in front of him. The others followed. Ren stepped away, knowing that Verix would be the last.

Instead his eyes were on a stone plinth, and the dagger he had brought from Gorothad. He crossed the room, glancing at the other plinth where Vader’s mask sat, and stretched out his hand for the knife - only for his uncle’s voice to intrude again.

“ _Your arts._ ” Looking up, Ren found Luke’s ghost emerging from the wall opposite. None of the Knights paid him any heed, as Ren had instructed them. Luke continued, casting a disdainful look over them. “You know how to disappoint your old teacher, Ben. Playing at blood magic with your sordid little coven.”

Amusement tugged at Ren’s mouth. “So it’s _not angry, just disappointed_ today, Master?” He picked up the knife, feeling the baleful energies caged in the metal. It _thirsted_. He didn’t spare Luke a glance. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You never cared for anything that actually got a job done.”

Behind him, the Knights began to chant, a droning cadence in an ancient, alien tongue. The air seemed to thin, the heat draining from the room, and Ren tasted ash on his tongue. The shadows pulsed in time to the chant, running alongside the geometric inscriptions.

Luke bared his teeth in a disgusted grimace. “The Force around all of you is curdled. Your presence is a stain on it.”

Where Ren’s footsteps had echoed loudly before, now the dropping pressure in the chamber seemed to steal the sound as he moved to its centre, where the patterns converged. “You really shouldn’t speak of your old pupils like that.” His voice, he found, still carried clearly.

Luke shook his head. He kept back, at the edge of the chamber. “It shames me to see what you’ve all become, what you’ve done to them. If Rey had seen them before, she’d never have hesitated to refuse you.”

Ren answered him with an expression halfway between a smirk and a snarl. “The girl won’t be a concern for much longer – she’s given us the means to trace her.” Gwaelyn’s last words echoed in his head. “ _The Ren marks her_ , and as it is mine to command, it will give me my prey.” He pulled off a glove. The dagger seemed to glint more brightly, its vicious thirst so close to being sated.

He felt a chill in his blood, as if his body sensed the ravenous blade and recoiled from it reflexively. Weakness. He cast it out; it had no place in him.

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, reaching out with the Force. The Dark Side coiled around him, a current ready for him to follow it. This was the mastery he had earned.

“You really do think it obeys you?” Luke interjected. “You really think that, what, throwing a few more bodies on the pile will fix things for you?”

Ren turned back to Luke. “I wonder what you’ll find to mock, old man,” he said, putting the knife to his bare palm, “when I butcher your last pupil.” He cut.

The afternoon had been a jubilant bustle. Resistance personnel had come down from orbit and set about packing up and carting off supplies, working alongside the escapees. They halted after sunset, however, leaving the defence turrets among the last things to be packed up. Just a few hours in the morning, and they should be ready to depart with their new friends.

Rey and Kaydel, like most of the people on the surface, had set up for the night in a vacant apartment in the city. With more loading to do the next day, it made sense for them to stay put and Jannah had turned up a spare couple of bedrolls.

“You know,” Kaydel said, undoing the braid in her hair. “When this is all done, and we start this adventure of ours, I think we ought to find somewhere nice and cultured.” She tapped her knuckles against the stone wall. “A city that’s actually intact, where we can find something good to eat and drink.”

“Kaydel, I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Rey cautioned as she rifled through her pack for nightclothes.

“C’mon, can’t a girl dream a little?” Kaydel approached her, putting her arms around Rey’s neck. “Especially when we’ve nearly completed our mission and got ourselves a whole bunch of new friends. Plus,” she added, as she pulled Rey close and kissed her gently, “a little bit of hope to go with them. Poe’s right – we might look back on Finn’s speech as the moment when the tide started turning.”

Rey finally mustered a smile of her own and returned the kiss, stroking Kaydel’s cheek and grinning as her girlfriend’s – and she still felt a little rush at that thought – fingers went spidering down her spine. But as Kaydel gently, teasingly bit her lower lip, a familiar and unwelcome chill stole up on her. Suddenly the touch seemed distant. And someone else, who had not come in, was in the cabin with them.

She pulled away a little, seeing the confusion in Kaydel’s eyes as she looked past her. And there he was, suddenly as close as he’d seemed on Ach-To.

“Hello Rey.” He was unarmoured this time, with only one glove on. The corpse-pale skin was even more apparent now, in the low light.

Rey swallowed. “Ben,” she said, as calmly as she could.

“I see my sister left a mark.” He drew close, and she saw the blood trickling through the fingers of his bare hand. “Which is only right. The Ren is old and deep, and my Knights don’t fall easily.” His eyes bored into hers. “You’re still raw, Rey.”

“Murderer!” Kaydel hissed. The sound came to Rey as if she was underwater, but Ren seemed to hear it all the same.

His eyes alighted on her, and his face twitched in the merest hint of a smile. “So this is the girl. She seems nice.” He took a step forward. “Is she good to you?” Rey tried to decide if it was scorn or envy in his tone.

Instinctively, she pulled Kaydel behind her, forcing some steel into her voice. “Well, she’s never put a blade to my throat.”

Amusement flickered in the yellow eyes. “Have you tried it?”

“How are you doing this?” Rey demanded, ignoring the goad. Just looking at his wounded hand brought a painful throb to her eyes, and told her that something about this meeting was different to the others.

“The Ren. The link which binds me to my Knights. You killing Gwaelyn brought you into it, just a little. Enough for me to briefly open up our old bond.” That was still more worrying, when she realised the power it must take to do this.

Rey felt her shoulders hunch and her hands balling into fists, but she couldn’t shake her unease at how her staff was sat outside the door. _Keep him talking. Wait it out._ “And you just wanted to talk?”

He was within reach of her now. “I like to know my quarry.” Too late, she saw his eyes move to Kaydel.

Ren pounced. He grabbed Rey’s shoulder and hurled her aside before lunging at Kaydel, who went tottering back on her heels.

Rey thudded hard into the wall. Seeing stars, she rolled over just in time to see him stretch out his hand. Kaydel’s limbs went rigid and she was plucked into the air, hauled off her feet with the Force. Ren's teeth were bared, a hideous rictus which Rey recognised immediately. It was the same one Snoke had worn on the _Supremacy_. Kaydel’s face was a mask of uncomprehending terror. Then his hand clamped over her forehead.

In a heartbeat, her expression went from dread to excruciation. Kaydel’s back arched and she _shrieked_ , the sound seeming to rip its way out of her lungs.

“Kaydel!” Rey leapt. Ren turned fractionally toward her, and her knuckles hammered into his face. Blood exploded from his nose. He fell back and suddenly out of sight.

Rey was still for a moment, chest heaving as she stared at the place where Ren had just been. Then the sound of Kaydel’s sobbing broke through to her.

“Kaydel!” She rushed to her partner and fell to her knees, cradling her. Kaydel was shaking violently, her face awash with tears.

“Talk to me,” Rey whispered, putting her arms around her. “I’m here with you. It’s going to be alright, I’m not letting him hurt you again.”

There was only more sobbing. Kaydel buried her face in Rey’s chest, just as the door opened. Finn stood on the threshold with a concerned look on his face and his lightsaber in hand, Chewbacca and Rose behind him. Rey held up her free hand.

“Ren?” Finn asked.

She nodded. “He was here, he attacked Kaydel.”

“How?”

“The old link,” she replied. “It’s over though, I kicked him back.” She put both arms about Kaydel and rocked her gently. “Gave him a good bloody nose, eh? He’s not going to try that again.”

Kaydel managed a muffled little laugh, but then she looked up at Rey and her face fell a little. “You’re bleeding again.”

Rey felt her cheek and her fingertips came away red. The cut must have reopened when she hit the wall. “Doesn’t matter,” she replied. “Doesn’t matter. You’re safe.”

BB-8 nudged past Finn and trundled over to the two women, cooing. Kaydel leaned over, managing a smile as the little droid bumped up against her chin. “All the better for seeing you, BB-8.” But then, horrified realisation set in on her face. “Rey,” she whispered. “He was… he was in my head…”

“What?” Finn asked.

But Rey already knew, and shards of ice stabbed at her heart. “He’s seen where we are. They’re coming.”

Kylo Ren picked himself up from the cold stone floor, contorting his face and wincing at the broken nose Rey had left him with. He wiped his lip with the back of his gloved hand. The blood gleamed dully on the leather.

The few seconds he’d spent delving into the woman’s mind had yielded limited results, but he’d got enough from her. The name _Omunak_ reverberated in his head. He saw the city. He saw the deserters.

The Knights regarded him in expectant silence, slowly getting back to their feet. He lifted his eyes to theirs, and a ragged grin broke out on his face.

“Ready yourselves. We have their scent.”


	28. Incursion

Ren’s intrusion changed everything. Where the First Order had been distant before, looming on the horizon, they had become a far more immediate threat. A timebomb, and no one on Omunak knew how long they had on the clock.

The division and their new friends had worked feverishly through the night, fighting back fatigue, all nervously glancing up at the sky whenever they had a moment. The _Vehement_ was being coaxed back into full life, but it was a slow, slow business.

Rey, Kaydel and Rose were in the city, helping to get people packed up and down to the Destroyer. There was still equipment here, personal gear and other supplies that they needed. The anti-air guns stayed in place – they’d remain until the very last minute. No one was taking any chances there.

Up at the landing zone, Poe and Finn were busy packing up their own campsite in the grey predawn light. Chewie lugged a crate aboard, shooing Gial into the cockpit for fear of the Porg being squashed. Gial hopped up onto a seat, squawking his discomfort to Poe.

For his part, Poe was busy with the radio. “Maz, I’m gonna need gunships down here quick as you can get ‘em. Best we put some of our new friends aboard with you.” Quite apart from his urge to keep them safe, he had to be seen honouring his word.

“It’s going to be messy, Commander.”

“Messy I can live with.” Gial squawked again, and Poe silenced him with a sternly pointed finger. He continued. “We can’t afford them thinking that we’ll bail on them, not now. How soon can we have transports here?”

“If you can find space for them to land, it should be twenty-” She broke off as sirens blared over the channel. Poe knew before she even spoke. “Incoming fleet!”

Star Destroyers bulled into realspace. There were a dozen of them already, but Maz could already tell, with mounting horror, that these were only the outer part of a larger formation which would soon emerge.

She turned to her crew. “All ships, present broadsides!”

“Green and Violet Squadrons, we need you out there!”

“Shields lit, charging cannons!”

“What kriffing fleet is this big?” demanded one of the other captains.

But Maz shook her head. The proximity readings, still flickering on her console, only confirmed what she already knew. Despite her many years of experience, a shudder ran through her. “It’s _him_.”

The space at the centre of the enemy fleet contorted and the black blade of the _Subjugator_ thundered into view. Kylo Ren had found them.

“Give them a broadside!” Maz cried, and the Resistance ships threw out a great volley of plasma. It doused the shields of the Star Destroyers, but already Ren’s fleet were firing back.

Salvos beat against shields and hulls, and ships began to die.

Ren watched the growing carnage, feeling hundreds of deaths ripple through the Force. Pryde stood next to him, unable to keep a triumphant look from his face. The lights of the battle danced in his eyes.

“Finally,” Pryde gloated. “This is where we pay the Jedi back for Endor and Jakku. Now we snuff them out once and for all, and strangle the Resistance’s hope.”

Ren flexed his fingers as Pryde spoke, savouring the turmoil in the Force around him. He could relish the carnage here, but the fight that really mattered was on the surface. She and him, just as it had been on the Starkiller.

“And I will attend to that myself. I leave the fleet to you.” He turned away, locking his helmet into place. His soldiers were already embarked on their gunships, waiting in silent anticipation for the slaughter to come. “Enjoy your work, General.”

The first Stormtroopers to make the surface paid dearly for their foothold. The anti-air defences in the city opened up, along with the _Vehement_ ’s own surface cannons. Through his binoculars, Finn saw a transport pierced through by a beam and bursting into flames, while less direct hits ripped the retros or stabilisers away from others and sent them spiralling to earth across the forest. Explosions bloomed beyond the city.

“That won’t be enough,” he said grimly. For behind the first wave of transports there were more, TIE Bombers racing ahead to unleash their payloads not on the city, but the forest outside. With typical callous pragmatism, they were bombing swathes of the jungle flat, clearing landing grounds. Once that was done, they’d begin attacking the city and the grounded ship.

Next to Finn, and with just as grave an expression, Arron nodded. “We can’t stop them all.” He glanced at the defaced TIE Fighters rising into the air. “But we always knew that. Stall ‘em, and get everyone we can back to the ship.” He glanced at the remaining pallets. “Guess we’ll have to find another use for these charges.”

Jaicyn appeared with a squad of troopers. They’d pulled on their armour but had draped other items over it, both for relative camouflage and to distinguish themselves from the enemy. “Captain, outer units report contact, north-northwest. I can take a squad and flank them.”

Arron looked even unhappier than before. “You won’t be able to come back if they get past you.” _When_ they got past, he meant – that was obvious to all of them.

“I’ll go with them,” Finn said. Arron looked at him sharply, but he simply gestured to the Resistance soldiers with him. “I’ll take my people too. That many of us, we can fight our way back to the airfield.”

Jaicyn nodded fiercely at that. Arron’s only response was a nod and a grave word: “Look after yourself, Captain – and my men.”

Finn returned the nod. Then he was running, heading for the sound of small-arms fire which had become audible over the booming report of the cannons.

Smoke already hung over the city in thick banks, but they could see the flare of blasters ahead, lighting the outskirts of the city. Jaicyn led them down a side street, parallel to the main parade. They could hear the tramp of boots now, hundreds already, and urgent shouts.

“Here!” Jaicyn motioned them to an alley. They hugged the walls, tensing up. There were Stormtroopers a little way off, all focused on the barricades ahead of them.

Finn pulled his saber from his belt. “One,” he began the countdown.

He saw the nervous look on Jaicyn’s face, and gave him a smile he hoped was reassuring. His free hand went for a thermal detonator, and the others did the same. “Two.”

He armed the detonator. “Three!” He hurled it and began running after the projectile, several more flying overhead.

The first the enemy knew about the attack was a sudden burst of explosions at head height. Stormtroopers were thrown into untidy heaps, the rest wheeling around to confront their ambushers only to be hit with a flurry of shots that dropped several more. Confused shouts echoed over the din.

Finn ignited his lightsaber, deflecting the first volley of blaster fire with a quick sweep of the blade. Then his momentum carried him into their midst, slashing and stabbing.

One of the troopers fired, aiming at Jaicyn. Finn interposed himself and sent the shot fizzing back – it blew the trooper off his feet. Losing no momentum, Finn closed the distance, flinging another Stormtrooper back into a stone wall and running another through. Jaicyn caught him up, slamming his maul into a faceplate. Behind them, the others lobbed more thermal detonators overarm to land further in among the Stormtroopers. The blasts took gouges out of the enemy formation and threw them into confusion.

On the main concourse, the attack on the barricades was suddenly robbed of momentum. Arron’s troops made the most of their advantage, leaping out to douse the attackers with fire and driving them into retreat. The Stormtroopers who fell back, suddenly cut off, only found themselves caught between hammer and anvil, with Finn’s squads falling on them from behind.

A Stormtrooper company down, and miraculously, no losses to themselves. Finn was tempted to press the attack, to try and drive the enemy right back. But he knew better than that, and the enemy were too sharp for such tactics to work. Quickly, the Stormtroopers regrouped and pressed them again.

“Withdraw!” Finn yelled. They beat a quick retreat, back toward the Falcon.

They’d inflicted some hurt, and Arron’s men would have a welcome reprieve. But it couldn’t last long, and soon Finn’s eyes were drawn up by a series of thundercrack booms, far above. Large craft, entering the atmosphere at speed.

He felt a sudden chill. “We’re in it now,” he growled.

Rey didn’t have her armour on. She’d left it on the Falcon for the entire day, and in their haste to finish stripping the encampment, she hadn’t retrieved it. It made for a feeling of horrible exposure, and now there was no time.

Racing out into the open she, Kaydel and Jannah were greeted by the rumble of multiple large craft entering the atmosphere. They looked up, seeing only the lights of the battle above them at first, and the speed-smeared shapes of fighters. But then a cluster of lights caught the eye, growing steadily larger.

“No,” Kaydel stammered. “No no no no.”

The second wave of First Order craft dropped into view, the menacing outlines of Scythe gunships aglow with the heat of atmosphere entry while the smaller shapes of TIE fighters flocked around them. Already Black and Blue squadrons had taken wing, moving to intercept them.

“Fire!” Jannah screamed into her radio. “Fire already!”

Cannons in the city blazed up at the incoming squadrons as before and several of the gunships came crashing down in flames. Rey saw plumes of flame erupt where they hit, sparking fresh blazes. Fighters and interceptors converged on the Scythes as they swept in, one squadron after the next.

But the Scythes were brutally armed, and their guns opened up in response. Laser beams and missiles stabbed down, melting metal and pulverising stone where they hit. One of Blue Squadron’s X-Wings was hit by a torpedo which sheared its wings away, leaving the body of the fighter to plummet and burst into flames on impact. A deserter’s TIE Interceptor was pierced by a laser, dead centre, and atomised. Two of the H-Wings rose defiantly, and their guns did deal out some damage, but the Scythes met that onslaught and returned it tenfold, ripping them apart. The volume of ground fire was cut in half, the invaders drifting imperiously down to earth, the fighters little more than an irritant to them.

Nothing could stop the First Order elite from making planetfall. They weren’t even a kilometre away.

“We need your ship in the air,” Rey breathed. Jannah said nothing, and Rey realised the other woman was rooted to the spot with fear. Because here it came, the carrion-bird profile of Ren’s shuttle, and Rey felt the chill take hold of her as well. Unlike Jannah, she could sense his presence – feel it already, malignant and oppressive.

But she couldn’t let her fear rule her now. She spun round and grabbed Jannah’s shoulders. “Go! Kaydel, Rose, stay with her!” Then she was on the move, racing to the Falcon.


	29. Conflagration

Ren and his Knights strode out from the shuttle, surrounded by the serried ranks of their troops. Dozens of transports had already been emptied of Stormtroopers, who were fighting somewhere in the city below. The scene around them was redolent of some old, apocalyptic painting. Hungering flames leapt up, consuming trees and belching great pillars of smoke into the sky.

The incandescence turned the gunships into hulking shadows and reflected from the Stormtroopers’ armour in a wash of red and orange. The saber sigils on the Death Troopers’ breastplates glimmered menacingly, and when the blades of the Knights swept from their sheaths, they shone like a wave of molten copper.

Ren wore the faceplate of his helmet open, breathing in the air of the tortured forest. His cloak billowed and snapped in the furnace-hot winds. For all the smoke, he relished it. By his will, this world burned.

The darkness in him rose in answer to the carnage. To carry the Ren within oneself was to cage a storm within your flesh, embodying and wielding truly elemental power.

Nothing on this world would stand against him.

“Sir!” One of his majors approached. “What are your orders?”

“Send a division against the airfield. I will take the rest into the enemy camp.”

“But Supreme Leader, will that suffice for the landing site?”

Ren regarded him balefully. “It will be enough for my purpose.”

The man knew enough not to press the issue. He turned and walked off, picking a Stormtrooper division and sending them off towards the airfield.

Ren turned to one black-liveried sergeant and his squad, all armed with shields and vibro-pikes. “You know your duty.” The Death Troopers beat their spears against their shields in unison – a single clang of metal on metal – and moved out in the wake of their white-armoured lessers.

Faultless loyalty and zeal. This was what would break the deserters today. Now he turned his eyes to the bright, cold glow that marked the resting place of the _Vehement_. His ostensible goal – and he knew that this approach would bring his other target to him.

“The rest of you,” Ren called to the rest of the division. “With me!” His lightsaber ignited, followed a second later by the blades of the Knights and then the Death Troopers. An indulgence, to be sure – but as Snoke had been wont to say, what was supremacy worth if one did not remember to enjoy it?

And he wanted the deserters and rebels to know their deaths were inevitable.

Ren’s troops formed up around him, and they set off at a march for the city.

There was a deep satisfaction in this, Pryde thought, watching Resistance craft and ships burn. The _Subjugator_ ’s shields and armour scorned their weapons – a squadron of Y-Wings harried it, but they just didn’t have the ordnance to do meaningful damage – while its cannons dealt out ruin to anything within range.

It was delicious. Endor, Jakku, Crait… so many slights were being paid back today.

There was just one nagging thing, one ship at the edge of the battle which wasn’t as tightly in formation as it could be. “Admiral Griss, order Captain Hauma to pull closer in. The _Severity_ needs to align itself properly.” Otherwise there was be a hole in the trap. It was almost as if Hauma was trying to get a firing solution on part of the city itself. Which was quite unnecessary when the Supreme Leader was down there with the 66th. The rebels and the deserters were as good as dead already.

“The _Judicial_ is taking heavy damage,” Griss said. “They request permission to pull back.”

“Denied,” Pryde said coolly, regarding the tactical holograph. “Order the captain to evacuate what personnel he can – whilst keeping the ship able to fight – and monitor the Resistance ships targeting it.” He watched the data as it came in, paying only a little attention to the tormented _Judicial_ as the Resistance ships stripped its armour away and geysers of fire burst through its metal skin. One of the Mon Calimari ships, when he had initially taken for a carrier, was dealing the most damage. An artfully disguised bombardment cruiser, he surmised.

“That one,” he said, touching a fingertip to the offending vessel’s image so it flickered to red. “Prime the autocannons, two-gun salvo.”

The _Subjugator_ ’s three autocannons swung into place, and a whining hum built up. Inside two of the massive barrels, a blood-red glow would be kindling. Pryde turned to the viewports. He couldn’t help the cold smile which crept across his face, the delicious moment of anticipation. “Fire,” he breathed.

Two blasts of ruby light shot from the _Subjugator_ and struck the Resistance vessel amidships, punching through its shields and igniting the munitions within. The already wounded ship was torn apart from the inside as explosions ran through its hull. Pryde watched hungrily, savouring the knowledge of the scum within, hundreds of rebels who would be immolated as their ship disintegrated, or pitched, silently screaming, into the void. They would hunt down the other Resistance fleets after their business over Omunak was complete. And they would do this to every last one of them. _Glory_ , Pryde thought. _Glory and vengeance_.

Therefore it took genuine effort to tear himself away and pay attention to Griss again when the admiral approached him. “Allegiant General.” Griss looked worried, absurdly so given their crushing advantage here.

“What is it?”

“We’ve received a transmission, relayed from Vorsk. One of the system’s monitor vessels. It looks like the officer who sent it was killed partway through the recording, but what we’ve received…”

Pryde waited as Griss called up a transcript. As he read it his uneasy curiosity became cold, steely anger. “ _Hux_. Get me a link to the Supreme Leader,” he ordered.

Smoke and dust throttled the newborn day, darkening the sky. The city was lit mainly by fire and strobing lasers.

As Ren’s forces made for the _Vehement_ , divisions peeled off to assault the airfield and a second front erupted in the city. Returning from their sortie, Finn and his squads had to fight through Stormtroopers as they drew close.

By the time they were in sight of the Falcon, the airfield was ringed by the enemy and they bore down upon them with a chorus of yells, Finn clearing a path with his saber. A Riot Trooper made a beeline for him. Finn caught the shock-baton on his saber, pivoted and ran the Stormtrooper through. Dropping his enemy, he went for his blaster and put holes in the breastplates of three more attackers. Around him, the Scrappers and other Rebel fighters battled on, bolstered by Jaicyn’s squads and other _Vehement_ escapees who’d been cut off from their ship.

He fell back to the Falcon’s landing ramp, where Poe stood.

“Get on, get on!” Poe called to the stragglers. Those able to hold blasters found cover, the rest boarded gunships. Black and Blue Squadrons wheeled above them, joining the _Vehement_ ’s TIEs in a savage dogfight against Ren’s squadrons.

The first few attacks on their position had been messy, by First Order standards. Individual squads had come at them, and their white-armoured corpses were now strewn across the area. But he could see the purpose in it, the same ruthlessness which he’d lived with for most of his life.

The dead Stormtroopers had been charged with spending their lives to keep Poe’s squads tied up here and stop them pulling out or helping elsewhere in the city. Now, there were whole companies on the offensive, advancing in implacable ranks as their fire rippled against the Falcon’s shields.

The vegetation around the landing site was ablaze, set alight by flamethrower-armed Stormtroopers. It served a dual purpose, worsening visibility for the defenders and adding to the hellish feel of the battle.

“This is abominable!” Finn and Poe shared a disbelieving look and wheeled to see C-3PO stood by the Falcon’s landing ramp with a cluster of astromech droids, all formerly First Order.

“Threepio, this is no time for spectating!” Poe yelled. “Get those droids on the ship now! Honestly,” he growled, rising from cover and taking out a Stormtrooper. “He picks now of all times to be a hero.”

“You need to get aboard too,” Finn grunted to Poe, firing again. On his other side, Chewbacca raised his bowcaster and sent two Stormtroopers flying, head over heels. Finn turned and grabbed Poe’s shoulder. “Poe, move! We’ve got this.” Poe glanced at him, nodded tersely, and vanished up the Falcon’s ramp.

“Finn!” Rey’s voice carried over the din. Finn turned to see her racing across the airfield towards him, staff awash with crackling energies and a gaggle of escapee troopers following in her wake. She pivoted, throwing out her free hand and driving a knot of Stormtroopers to the ground. The fighters behind Rey opened fire, felling the rest.

That exposed a squad of twenty troopers in black plate, their shields glimmering in the firelight and vibro-pikes held tightly in armoured fists. They immediately broke into a heavy charge, straight for Rey.

“Come on!” Finn roared, and moved to intercept them. With a cry, the Scrappers followed and in an instant they were among the enemy, weapons meeting with a clash of metal and the fizzing snarl of energy fields. More Stormtroopers had come up behind their elite brethren, and the fighting reached a fever-pitch.

Ki’rii cried out next to Finn – a Death Trooper had plunged his spear into her shoulder. She fell, and her assailant went to finish the job. Finn lunged, knocking the weapon aside. Then he slashed his opponent’s leg. The Death Trooper went to his knees with a distorted roar of pain and fury, and with his own bellow of anger, Finn took the Death Trooper’s head off.

That made no impression on the others. Their sheer implacability was both frightening and disgusting to Finn. He’d been raised to kill for the First Order, lived among others conditioned to do the same, but even compared to regular Stormtroopers, these soldiers seemed bleached of all feeling.

Rey caught another blade as it descended towards him, and Finn ducked under it to impale his attacker. “Get her up!” Rey was shouting.

Kuoma rushed in, scooping the wounded Ki’rii up and bearing her away. The Falcon’s upper cannon boomed into life, pouring fire into the massed ranks of Stormtroopers. They fell into retreat, undoubtedly to regroup and attack again. The Death Troopers, however, had all fallen in the melee.

“What kept you?” Finn asked Rey, noting how her robes were blackened and tattered.

“The enemy.” She signalled to some of the people she’d brought with her. Wounded defenders were taken aboard the Falcon and the gunships, making the most of the respite. "We need to be away."

“Give it just a few minutes more,” Finn said. “Till the _Vehement_ ’s airborne. Then we pull out.” He patted Rey’s shoulder, now realising worriedly that she only had her robes on. But he had bigger concerns, a nasty suspicion forming in his mind. “Where are the rest of them?”

But Rey wasn’t listening. She was staring into the distance, where an opening between buildings gave them a view of the great thoroughfare. It thronged with the serried ranks of Stormtroopers. And among them, Finn saw black armour and glowing red blades – the Knights of Ren and their master, making for the _Vehement_.

Kylo Ren turned, seeming to sense their gaze. Even at this distance, even with his helmet on, Finn just _knew_ he was smiling. Next to him, Rey had gone rigid, her breaths coming in pent-up hisses. The Scrappers eyed her apprehensively.

Finn reached out to her. “Rey-”

She looked at him, and he saw the desperate fear that he felt in his own heart, etched on her face.

The next thing he knew she’d bolted, feet hammering across the rubble.

“No,” he gasped, making to follow before Chewbacca caught his arm, protesting even as the Scrappers took off behind her. All he could do was shout after her.


	30. The Fury of the Ren

Stormtroopers were now within sight of the _Vehement_ , attacking in force. Bodies lay across the streets and boulevards. Fire lit the city; whole blocks were already ablaze, venting black smoke.

Kaydel and Rose joined the tide of unarmed crew fleeing for the _Vehement_. At every turn they passed barricades where the ex-Stormtroopers had dug in. This, they both realised, was an eventuality that the _Vehement_ ’s crew had known about for a very long time.

The defenders were already hard pressed. Anyone who made it through the training process would be a capable soldier, and they were all blooded, certainly. Their experience had forged a profound loyalty to one another. Moreover the city was their territory, and they exploited it to the hilt, dragging the fight onto their own terms. Kill-zones were designated and traps laid even as the outer lines were given up, each one claiming dozens of attackers.

And this was a well-rehearsed fight. Arron and the other officers had chosen this place precisely because it could be made defensible. They’d shaped the encampment to that end, devised tactics and drilled their people rigorously to carry them out. Above all, they had kept in mind that any defence would need to stall an attacker rather than throw them back. It was all about buying time for the _Vehement_ to be loaded and lift off. Aside from the circumstances, this would all be considered exemplary conduct for a Stormtrooper division.

But all that couldn’t put them on par with Legions who, for the last two years, had ground their way from one devastated world to another. They couldn’t match that readiness to kill at a moment’s notice, the ability to shrug off the deaths of comrades and keep moving inexorably onward.

It was a punishing retreat for the escapees, the simple arithmetic of the offensive forcing them further back with every minute. Only the confines of the city, their familiarity with the environment, and the desperate hate they bore for the First Order, kept the battle from turning into a massacre. 

And then came the black-clad ranks of the 66th Legion, the Supreme Leader’s favoured killers. Their precision was unmatched, their brutality remorseless. With their entrance, the fighting devolved into slaughter. Every barricade was smashed by their heavy weapons squads, their gunnery outclassed the defenders’ utterly, and when their close-combat squads charged in, shields raised, they were led by the Knights.

And Kylo Ren fought at their head. He came into the midst of the defenders like a black thunderbolt and where he struck, the line was instantly sundered. With his saber he hacked through limbs and impaled chests, batting away shots with contemptuous ease. With the Force he reached out to hurl his victims into walls, or even to throttle them and break necks.

The Knights around him did the same. The Ren broke upon its victims as a storm does, all of them feeding on the fear, pain and desperate hatred of their victims. Because already, that was all these people were to Ren. They weren’t his enemies, they were prey. They had defied him, cost him time and resources and now, they would pay in full.

And there was other quarry here, among the fleeing deserters. He could almost smell the girl Connix, sniff her out like a hunting-beast. Once he had invaded a mind, he knew the feel of it. And Connix would be useful to him, before he killed her like he would every other rebel.

He was close on her tail now, and even if she made it aboard the _Vehement_ , the enemy didn’t have time to ready the ship before he caught them. It would only become their tomb.

Ren was quite happy with that notion.

So very close now… 

The crowd pressed in around Kaydel, the stench of sweat and fear suffusing the air. She stumbled, almost going down in the crush, but Rose caught her arm and pulled her back up. Kaydel had no time to thank her, barely enough time to breathe. Jannah was shouting, urging people on, trying to make herself heard. Not just above the sound of hundreds of people moving but the sounds of fighting, getting closer.

They were on the slope now, the _Vehement_ looming ahead. The Star Destroyer’s guns were blazing away, targeting the TIE craft which spiralled overheard. That meant it was powering up further, closer to liftoff. Closer to escape…

For a second she dared to hope. And then laser-shots smacked into the crowd, dropping people with screams and groans of pain.

The Stormtroopers were on them. And not just Stormtroopers. Kaydel saw the Death Troopers of the dreaded 66th wading into the crowd with shields and vibro-pikes, slicing and stabbing.

Red light bloomed amid the smoke as Kaydel looked back. It stopped her in her tracks. She heard Jannah’s breath catch, heard her protesting “No, no…”

The red glow resolved into several. Blades, in the hands of black figures as they emerged. Even if Kaydel hadn’t seen one of their kind just days ago she’d have recognised them. The other Knights of Ren.

And at their head, the silver of his armour awash with firelight, Kylo Ren himself. He saw them. He looked directly at her, levelling his blade with a malice that almost stopped her heart.

The Knights came straight for them, pitilessly disposing of anyone who barred their progress. Arron turned, pushing Kaydel forward and levelling a pistol at the attackers.

He got one shot off, glancing a Death Trooper’s helmet, before a sizzling blade cut through his wrist. Arron turned white, collapsing back into Jannah and Rose’s arms. And now no one was standing between Kaydel and Ren.

For a moment, the fighting stilled as Ren advanced, eyes on Kaydel. “What did she see in you?” he said, softly. His hand flexed on the hilt of his lightsaber, the blade seeming to crackle more viciously in that moment. “And what will it do to her, when I take you from her?”

Terror stole Kaydel’s voice. But then she saw another light in the smog – electric blue, moving fast…

Rey broke into a full charge when she spotted Ren. Stormtroopers barred her path – no matter. She wove her way through them, hammering her staff into chest and visors, hunting the red light ahead of her.

Close – closer – and she was on him. She leapt, only for Ren to spin around. He caught her blow and she tumbled away from the impact, rolling over to get back up. She saw the satisfied look on his face and with a horrible lurch, realised he’d anticipated her.

She turned to Kaydel and screamed a single word. “ _Run!_ ”

Before she could go on the attack, Ren had closed the distance and was hammering at her defences, striking hard and swiftly. The spell which had seemed to fall over both sides broke, and battle was joined again as Rey and Ren duelled.

They had fought against one another only once before, with Ren badly wounded, but she had seen him fight unhindered on the _Supremacy_. His speed and skill had been astounding, even amid the frenzy of that battle.

Now, he was something else entirely. His command of Djem So had deepened, strengthening his defences. Juyo, the most vicious of all the saber arts, had become a part of his fighting style, and now when he attacked it felt like trying to fight a blizzard, each strike accompanied by a wave of dark energy.

Rey pivoted away and struck back, but Ren’s parries sucked the power out of her every attack, drawing her into locks which she desperately whirled and twisted out of. And then every time he would make his counterattack, an onslaught of hammering strikes that drew upon his great physical strength and the limitless depths of his fury. His offence was eruptive in both its suddenness and its devastating violence.

Rey saw Ren's cold smile and knew he felt her mounting despair, just as his rage seared her like magma. Knew that for him, her dread was just another source of power. Now Ren seized upon it.

He laid into her, ceaselessly attacking, exceeding even Gwaelyn’s prowess. Every blow threatened to tear the staff from her hands when she was forced to block instead of evade, his overhead swings almost knocked her to the ground.

She knew how reckless this move was – Finn had been wise to hang back. But she hadn’t realised the extent of the danger. Blinded by her own rage, her fear for Kaydel, she’d been drawn straight into Ren’s trap. The fight was unfolding on his terms and his alone.

She had to get clear, to use her own speed. The Ataru Form demanded space to function properly. But every time she tried to evade him, she found herself confronted by a Knight, hemmed in and losing momentum as Ren moved in again. He knew her and as always, he seized upon it ruthlessly. The sulphurous taint of the Ren filled the air around her, oppressive, beating against her senses. And with every exchange, they herded her towards the precipice.

The Scrappers arrived a moment later, crossing blades with the Knights and the Death Troopers around them. Black-armoured troopers went down, but the Knights were too powerful, too skilful to be felled easily. They rallied and pressed back against the Scrappers. Emboldened, Rey struck back at Ren, locking against his blade and pushing up against it – but Ren twisted and drove his boot hard into her shin. She went down.

Cylarei and Nyzar broke through, slamming one of the Knights to the ground and rushing to Rey’s side. As one they went for Ren, but he wheeled and fended off their blows with hateful ease.

The other Scrappers were thrown back, driven down the trail with the escapees. The Knights closed in again – one came against Rey with an axe, and before she could beat him back another came in, cutting the air with a curved sword and repelling her. Behind them, Ren slammed Cylarei’s blade down, switched back and stabbed her through the heart.

“ _Cylarei!_ ” Rey cracked her staff into the leg of one Knight and hurled the other off his feet with a thought, and went for Ren once more. He was blade to blade with Nyzar. She could make it. Together, they could take him. They could –

A hooked blade slashed down and took Nyzar’s arm off the elbow. He bellowed and swung at the approaching Knight with his remaining arm, but Verix swayed aside with fluid poise and opened Nyzar’s chest with a flurry of cuts – once, twice, four times. Rey cried out, but there was nothing she could do, driven back. Nyzar crashed to the ground, lifeless.

Ren didn’t even spare him a look. He had already turned away, advancing again on Rey. “You can’t win this,” he told her bluntly. The Knights loomed behind him, weapons ready to intercept if she broke past their leader. Their dark iron masks were pitiless, reflected flames glimmering in their sunken lenses.

Beyond them the Death Troopers had rallied, and Rey couldn’t even see the rest of her squad. Her universe had become the cage of enemies around her, and the sting of furious tears on her cheeks.

The saber and staff clashed again. As he had before, Ren jabbed and caught her staff, their weapons locking. Rey pushed back against the blade, but then she felt it. Ren’s Force powers, being brought to bear not on her, but on the staff itself. Before her horrified gaze, the metal began to flex. She tried to counter Ren’s attack, but straining against his weight, she couldn’t match it, and a keening sound rang from the staff, rising in pitch.

“Thought you can match my power?” he hissed. “You’re _nothing_.”

The squeal of abused metal reached such a pitch that it was barely audible. Then the staff tore in two and Ren pounced.

Rey fell back, but too late – the saber raked across her stomach.

At the bottom of the gorge, Kaydel froze at the sound of Rey’s scream, feeling it like a blade through the heart.

In the Falcon’s turret, Finn reeled as he felt sudden, searing pain. He slumped forward in his seat before he caught himself, and Poe and Chewbacca started at his strangled yell.

Far off, Leia stumbled and caught herself against a wall, eyes wide with horror.

Pain exploded in Rey’s core, a howl of agony tearing from her throat as she folded over the wound. Her legs gave way, knees hitting the stony ground hard and sending a fresh jolt through her. She could barely see, the pain blotting out her vision, but she could sense Ren’s next attack unfolding. The crimson blade descended towards her and she barely caught it with the one half of her staff she’d kept hold of. The impact shuddered down her arms, wringing a sob out of her and almost driving her down into the dirt. Ren came into focus, heaving against her desperate defence, eyes ablaze.

His boot hammered into her ribs. Rey felt something crack, and suddenly she was rolling down the slope towards the precipice. At the very edge she caught hold of an exposed root, halting herself though it almost wrenched her arm from its socket. Heaving on it, she dragged herself back onto the rock, whimpering and groaning at the tearing pain in her torso. A red, wet stain was already spreading over her robes.

Ren emerged out of the smoke, a looming shadow against the flames. His teeth were bared, a wolfish snarl distorting his features. His eyes flashed in the shadows of his helmet as he advanced, with the implacable assurance of a man who knew he had already won. He only stopped when the scream of engines sounded behind him, and he turned to see the Falcon and the last fighters take wing.

Immediately Ren reached out with a grasping hand, and the Falcon’s ascent stalled, its momentum suddenly arrested. Rey watched in growing horror, seeing the ship quake and hearing the engines strain. “No,” she breathed, and with agonising slowness, she raised a trembling hand. Darkness pressed in at the edge of her vision, but with her fingers clawed she found purchase and _pulled_. Ren’s hand was wrenched back, his hold over the Falcon gone. The ship hurtled away.

Ren didn’t hesitate. With a roar he wheeled around, eyes ablaze, and lashed out at Rey with such fury that the shockwave tore up earth and stones, flinging them towards her. The maelstrom caught her and she was hurled high into the air.

Then she knew no more.

“ _NO!_ ” Kaydel wailed. Rey plummeted to earth, landing with a sickening crack of bone on rock. Kaydel raced over, falling to her knees and clutching at Rey’s broken, unmoving form, sobbing and imploring her to wake up.

She looked up, and through her tears she saw Kylo Ren up on the ledge, staring back at them.

“Fire!” Jannah cried next to Kaydel, raising her blaster. “Fire, damn you!”

The fighters around her lifted their guns and fired up at the ledge, screaming defiance at their nemesis. Ren and the Knights deflected everything they threw at him, but his soldiers went down around him or were forced into cover. It gave the remaining Scrappers the time they needed to rush down the path and join them.

“Captain!” Olesin breathed as he reached Rey. “Stars, no.” He scooped her up in his arms, bellowing hoarsely to the others. “On the ship, now!” Tannel grabbed Kaydel and dragged her with him, shooting at the enemy above. One half of Rey’s staff had landed next to her and without realising it, Kaydel had taken hold of it. LM caught hold of Rose, sheltering her as he continued to fire up at the ridge.

Covered by the troopers, they retreated aboard, Jannah yelling for a medpack and stretcher. They were produced from some corner, and Rey was whisked off across the hangar.

Kaydel took a few steps after them before she stumbled, slipping to her knees.

“ _Rey_ ,” she whispered.


	31. Falling Blades

Verix planted his boot on the Zabrak’s lifeless chest, raising his hookblades and crowing at the sky. The other Knights were quieter, but the bloodlust and exultation were in them too, causing them to breathe raggedly through their masks.

Further down the slope, Ren lowered his saber, stalking down to the precipice. His breathing was just as hoarse and rapid, his heartback booming against his ribs. There was blood on the grass, black on green in the firelight. Behind him the flames rose ever higher.

“Look…” he said, unsteadily, addressing that bloody patch of grass, “…at what you made me do.”

He’d wondered what this kill would feel like for a long time. Now that it had come, it proved to be a strange blend of emotions. There was savage triumph roaring in his blood, just as there had been when he’d slain Snoke. But beneath it was the same hollowness from his father’s death, the hollow victory which had only left him feeling weaker. He certainly didn’t feel weak now, but there was a sense of loss, as though he’d cut something out of himself.

Down in the chasm, the _Vehement_ ’s engines began to rumble in earnest. That brought him back to the task at hand. There was still time to press the attack. They would board the Star Destroyer and purge its treasonous crew. And maybe, once he saw Rey’s corpse, their feud would feel like it really was over at last.

But through the rumble, another noise intruded – the keening of his holo-unit. He raised his gauntlet and a flickering image of Pryde materialised in his palm.

He mastered himself, not without difficulty. “General, you are interrupting my victory.”

Pryde inclined his head. Under the deference, however, Ren could see the man was furious. “I regret the intrusion, Supreme Leader, but I have dire news. Hux has instigated a coup on the Throne Worlds. Gorothad itself has fallen under his control.”

It was as if liquid fire had been pumped into Ren’s veins, consuming all thought except for one thing. _Treason_.

The Knights had heard it, and in any case they could feel the anger coursing through him. Yimur approached him. “Master, we can reach them before they lift away. Do we pursue?”

Ren’s fury became volcanic. He raised his head and howled at the smoke-filled sky. Pryde remained impassive, waiting for his orders. “Ready the autocannons and fire on the ravine,” Ren snarled. “Annihilate the cruiser.” Then he killed the holo and activated the comms link to his troops. “Withdraw!”

“Ready the hangars for the Supreme Leader’s return and prime the autocannons,” Pryde ordered. Around him, officers and crew did their best to act as though they hadn’t see such naked wrath from their ruler and scrambled to obey.

Gannylt watched, and tried to breathe slowly. He risked a glance at the man next to him and was rewarded with a nod.

They were out of time. Hux’s coup was known to Ren’s faction. This was the moment – the moment to strike for true order, to end the misrule.

“Autocannons hot,” a weapons tech called, seemingly far off.

“For order?” Theld asked.

Just as he had practiced, he flicked off the catch on his holster and drew his pistol in one smooth motion. He picked his target, aiming straight at Pryde’s back. Around him, the others and their troopers did the same.

“For order.” He pulled the trigger.

But one of Pryde’s guards had seen. How he had done so, so quickly, Gannylt didn’t know. All he knew was that there was a flash of gleaming black armour and the next moment the trooper had been hurled into Pryde by his shot, knocking him down.

Worse, as Gannylt sprinted forward he saw the trooper had collapsed on top of Pryde, the armoured corpse providing unlikely cover for the general. “Treachery!” the cry went up, distorted by helmet grilles.

He didn’t get a second shot. A plasma bolt hit him in the arm and put him flat on his back, groaning at the pain. The bridge was full of screams and gunfire. Someone else’s blaster was on the deck next to him. He rolled onto his side and reached for the pistol with his good hand, only to cry out as an armoured boot hammered down on it.

Another boot thumped into his side. Then another, and the butt of a gun into his back. His assailants turned him over, and he found a half a dozen blasters pointing at him. Klaxons were broadcasting an alarm through the bridge.

Somewhere, someone was shouting. “General, the _Severity_ has broken formation! It’s targeting the surface.”

Pryde, regaining his feet, didn’t hesitate. “Bring us around and intercept! Hauma’s a part of this, I know it.” He moved out of sight. “Fire on the _Severity_ , full salvo!”

Despite its size, the _Supremacy_ manoeuvred quickly, and the _Severity_ had nowhere to hide. The three blasts reverberated through the deck. Horrified, Gannylt watched the holo display as the _Severity_ ruptured under the salvo. The Star Destroyer was sent spinning away with its bridge gouged open, secondary explosions seething through the rest of the hull.

Soon it would be nothing but a shower of metal fragments, raining down on Omunak. All that planning, all the hopes riding on their scheme… gone.

Gannylt might have lost consciousness after that, he didn’t know. There were confused voices sounding over the radio, inconstant holos of the captains on other ships. The alarms continued to blare, until they were suddenly silenced.

He glanced to his right, and found Theld staring back. It took him another moment to realise how distant Theld’s eyes were, and that he wasn’t breathing.

Footsteps near him. Pryde’s face moved into view. His oiled hair was in disarray and he was bleeding from one nostril. Gannylt might have found it funny once, but here and now, it told him they’d failed. Whatever else Pryde was, he was smart enough to stay in cover until an ambush was dealt with.

Pryde bent down, nostrils flaring, and Gannylt felt something wet and warm drip onto his face. “In whose name have you done this?” He signalled, a mere flick of his index finger. The trooper who’d stamped on Gannylt’s hand put a boot down on his wounded arm, and Gannylt whimpered. Pryde continued. “What are you? A Resistance plant, a sympathiser on the Supreme Leader’s own ship? No…” he muttered, a crooked smile creeping onto his face. “You’re Hux’s creatures, aren’t you?”

Gannylt hissed up at him. “For the sake of true Order, we are.”

Pryde shook his head, the old sneer back in place. “I’m almost impressed. I didn’t think he’d have the spine to act now, even if he is using someone else.”

A Death Trooper approached, speaking in a voice leached of emotion by his speaker-grille. “General, do we send for the executioners?”

“No,” Pryde said. “We’ll hand these wretches to the Supreme Leader himself. Now recharge the autocannons,” he continued. Gannylt and the other survivors were cuffed and dragged to their feet, but Pryde was already striding away. “As before, fire on the ravine and _destroy the rogue Destroyer!_ ”

Even with the respite, the _Vehement_ barely won free. It gouged away a chunk of the ravine wall, trailing a great stream of rock and soil. The First Order craft unlucky enough to be caught in its way were swatted out of existence, little explosions dotting the hull. Moments later three spears of red light punched down, annihilating the landscape where they struck.

Molten earth fountained skyward, reaching up after the fleeing ship. The towers of the old city turned to dust, a new and greater chasm opening up to swallow what remained. A monument to the wrath of the First Order, ringed by the fires still spreading across the surface.

But the _Vehement_ thundered up through the atmosphere, chasing the lights of the Millennium Falcon and the Resistance fighters.

Kaydel took it all in, numbly watching the displays on the bridge. Rose and Jannah had dragged her along and coaxed her into a spare seat. With Arron injured and the other officers dead or otherwise incapacitated, Jannah was the closest thing to a leader the ship had right now. She took it in stride and strode the deck, cajoling, encouraging and doing her best to keep the crew on the task at hand. If they faltered, they were dead.

As they cajoled the _Vehement_ into orbit, they met with messages from their new allies. Reports that the First Order fleet was suddenly in disarray and that the Resistance were punching out of the system. The surviving fighter squadrons swept back into the hangar with a few scattered Resistance fighters and straggling transports from the surface.

Maz’s crew had shunted the coordinates to the _Vehement_ , and Kaydel felt the thrum of the engines through her boots, building to a jolt as the Star Destroyer leapt into hyperspace. Then there was that strange stillness of faster-than-light travel, and shouts of elation from the onetime Stormtroopers rang out. They’d fought their way clear of the Supreme Leader’s vengeance.

Kaydel heard the cheers, but they seemed to come from far off. Everything seemed far off, even the broken half of Rey’s staff resting in her lap and the tears that kept rolling down her cheeks.

Gannylt was thrown to the deck, his hands bound, as the shuttle touched down in the hangar. Thuds and groans around him told him that the same had happened to his fellows.

The Supreme Leader and his Knights stalked down the ramp through the billowing steam, coming to a halt in front of them. Pryde stepped forward to greet them.

“Congratulations on your victory over the Jedi, Supreme Leader. Though I do also apologise that these wretches weren’t caught before they spoiled the moment.”

Ren dismissed the apology. “The Rebels are an afterthought now, even if we have been denied a complete victory here. What matters to us in this moment is the usurper.” Ren crouched down, eye to eye with Gannylt. “So, the new officers. Hauma never had the connections to get them assigned, so I think we can attribute this to Torqueda. A pity – when all this is done I shall require a new High Inquisitor.”

“When this is done-” Gannylt began.

“I will be dead and Hux will still have the throne,” Ren said, sounding almost weary. “I’m sure that’s what you’ve been rehearsing to yourself, Lieutenant. But you can’t hide the truth. This little ploy, and Hux's declaration, tell me all I need to know. He required my death to have any real hope of succeeding.” Gannylt tried to speak, but Ren gave no sign of noticing. “True, he has Gorothad now, but he didn't want to have to contest it with me.”

“He’s not a complete fool, then,” one of the Knights grated, drawing his sword.

Ren ignored that too, focused on Gannylt. "It's why he was so ready to expend all of you." Ren took Gannylt's face in his gauntleted hand. Gannylt, with that hand locked over his mouth, could only stare back. "Yes, he was sacrificing you all, Hauma included. Even if you were too deluded to see it.”

This close, Gannylt saw the quiver of Ren's flaring nostrils. The Supreme Leader’s face filled his vision, the yellow eyes boring into his. He saw the rage in them, buried deep like embers under ash but still burning away.

"And there is Hux's weakness. He fears me so much that he would happily use any resources he had to kill me. It’s in you as well. I _smell_ that fear on you. So your deaths will be broadcast across my domain as a demonstration to my subjects that I remain alive, and as a promise to Hux and all who follow him."

He pulled his hand away. “You won’t prevail,” Gannylt spat at him. “Hux will cleanse the First Order, undo this farce of a usurper on the throne. The _Dark Side_ won’t be enough.”

Pryde’s eyebrows rose just a little in arch amusement. “I’m afraid that you’ve failed to grasp some salient facts about the old Empire and the First Order, boy.” He shifted his attention to Ren. “Your instructions, Supreme Leader?”

Amusement played across Ren’s face, but he kept his voice level. “Despite the interference of these wretches, the fight with the Resistance which really matters is over. The Jedi are finished, now the girl is dead. There won’t be another, and once Hux is dealt with they will be stamped out once and for all.”

He stood and stepped away, gesturing for the Knights to come forward. Then he drew his lightsaber with a slow twirl, and advanced on Gannylt again. “So perish all traitors.”

As one the blades rose, and as one they fell.


	32. The Wounded

Chewbacca killed the Falcon’s engine and slumped forward in his seat. Around the ship, the _Rapscallion_ ’s hangar was all equipment and crowds, racing in to tend to damaged craft and wounded people. Kuoma had already taken Ki’rii and a couple other casualties to the infirmary. Poe, Chewbacca and Finn remained slumped at their stations. Nervous energy and instinct had got them aboard, but now that they were, and now they’d heard the full extent of what had happened to Rey, the strength had gone out of them.

The old Wookie put his head in his hands, giving voice to a quiet half-howl.

Finally, Poe found the strength to turn on the radio. “Are we free of them?” He demanded raspily. The Falcon hadn’t picked up any tracking locks, but right now, he didn’t dare hope.

“There’s no sign,” Maz replied, shakily. “We’ll double-jump just in case.”

“Good.” That was all Poe trusted himself to say right now, and he turned off the radio before it He stood, finding himself unsteady. Chewbacca stayed seated, lamenting.

The ship had taken a beating on the way off Omunak. Several power-feeds had ruptured from whatever Ren had done to them – it must have been Ren – and they sparked and sputtered in the darkened interior. Lights snapped on and off. Chewbacca’s rising howls followed him.

They’d got the news on their way up the gravity well. Rose had barely been able to speak, but she’d eventually mustered the words. Rey was severely wounded, barely clinging to life even now she was in the infirmary. By rights, the medics had told Rose, she should be dead already.

It was a shattering blow. Poe slumped against a wall by the gun ladders, dragging his fingers through his hair, trying to keep the tears back.

Then he heard movement, coming up from the gun pit.

“Why aren’t we on the _Vehement_?” Finn came scrambling up the ladder. He’d evidently woken from his torpor and gone straight to frantic. Poe saw fear in his eyes, and anger. “Get us on the kriffing _Vehement_!”

Poe held up a weary hand. “The Falcon’s not budging any time soon. Finn-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Finn levelled an accusing finger. “Don’t you _dare!_ I felt it. I need to see her.” He made to shoulder past Poe and found an arm blocking his way. He glared at him and pushed again, harder. “Let me-”

“No.”

Finn gave a wordless growl and shoved against him, but Poe dug his feet in and pushed back, propelling Finn into the wall.

“Let me past!” Finn’s fists beat against his chest. This was its own danger, Poe knew – Finn could knock him down easily enough if he lost control. And then where would they be? “Let go of me!”

“Stand to attention, soldier!” Poe barked. Finn’s arms snapped to his sides out of sheer habit. Enough for the red haze to lift. Poe softened his voice and spoke quietly. “Finn, I can’t let them see you like this.” He continued, struggling to say the words even though he knew they were true. “This is bigger than Rey. Ren can’t be allowed to catch us now. For the sake of everyone we pulled off that rock, and everyone we couldn’t save, we have to hold it together.”

The fight went out of Finn, and he slumped against the wall with his head in his hands. When he raised his face to Poe’s again, it was streaked with tears. “I should’ve gone with her,” he croaked.

“No, don’t even start,” Poe began to respond.

“This is my fault…”

“ _No._ You know it isn’t, and if Rey was stood here, she’d tell you the same.”

"I should've gone with them. I could've-"

Poe crossed the distance and put his forehead against Finn’s. "Don't say that," he told him. "Don't even think it. There were too many of them, and if you hadn't kept your head then we might've lost you as well." He held Finn's gaze, willing him to believe it.

Chewbacca appeared out of the dark, murmuring in agreement, and enfolded them both in his shaggy arms. Poe managed to free one arm and put that around Finn’s shoulders. With the other, he patted Chewbacca’s shoulder.

“So what do we do?” Finn asked eventually.

“For now,” Poe told him, “check on Kuoma and Ki’rii, and the rest of our wounded. They’re your squad, they still need you. And then, rest. There’s nothing we can do right now, and I need you fresh tomorrow. Listen –” he saw the despondency in Finn’s eyes “– _listen_ , the second we’re somewhere safe, we’ll go see Rey. Talk to Rose – I’ll have a word with Kaydel – and turn in. Goes for you too, Chewie.”

The _Vehement_ ’s infirmary was a hive of oddly subdued activity. There were plenty of wounded escapees from the battlefield, and they all needed tending to. Arron had already been in and out within a few hours, heading back to the bridge the moment the medics would let him. They’d tended to his amputation, but he’d refused a bionic arm, telling them to save it for one of the troopers. Plenty of them would be in need.

There were dozens more, some nearly as badly wounded as Rey, and other escapees carrying in people and items. Such was the crowding that the remaining Scrappers had abandoned their attempt at a vigil, seeking a place where they could brood without being in the way. Rose had taken to moving back and forth between here and the bridge.

The stream of people went unabated. But they passed Kaydel in a blur of footsteps, hushed voices, weeping and occasional shouts.

She was trying not to notice it, willing it all to not be real.

Because if it was real, she would be looking at Rey’s blood on surgical tools and the scorched and tattered remains of her robes. She’d be looking at charts showing shattered bones, catastrophic internal bleeding. She’d be staring at the broken, inert form of her love, encased in a bacta shell and with a respirator clamped over her mouth.

And then she’d have to acknowledge what they told her. All these measures, all this equipment, wouldn’t be enough. Rey couldn’t be restored, or even kept stable for more than a day. Kylo Ren had broken her utterly.

And just like Finn, guilt stabbed at her and shame twisted the knife for good measure. This had happened because of her. Because again, she’d got herself in harm’s way.

Rey had put herself between Kaydel and Ren. What kind of sick trade was that? A Jedi for a comms officer? That just led to further anger for Kaydel, a burning rage at her own powerlessness. Ren had done all this to the woman she loved, and there was nothing she could do to repay that hurt…

The grind of servos and the thud of metal feet announced LM-976’s arrival. He’d come alone this time. Startled, Kaydel looked up at his blunt metal face. To her surprise, she found the usually fierce orange eyes had switched to a softer, sorrowful blue.

“Might I join you, Lieutenant?” She gave a quavering nod, and the stocky combat droid seated himself next to her.

She spoke first. “LM, I hadn’t thought to ask how you were holding up. With Nyzar…”

LM turned fractionally to her. “All a gladiator ever asks is that he dies on his feet, and Nyzar got that. Even if I can’t call his killer an honourable foe.” His eyes glimmered orange for a moment. “The First Order will pay for this, we’ll see to it. But I’m getting ahead of myself – how are you doing?”

Kaydel tried to keep her voice firm, but her throat seemed to be constricted. “I…” she said, first as a whisper and then as a gulp. She steeled herself, feeling like she’d got a hold on it.

And then she crumpled, sobbing into her hands as fear and grief poured out of her. LM didn’t speak, just placing a hand on her shoulder and letting her get it out.

“I can’t lose her,” she managed at last, hating how the words sounded – and hating the truth of them so much more.

To her great relief, LM didn’t comment on that. He gazed back, levelly as only a droid could. “We won’t lose her, Kaydel. I don’t care what the medics say, this won’t be the end of her.” He paused, seeming to recognise how incongruous his next words would sound – but they were still perfectly sincere. “We trust the Force.”

He said it so firmly that she almost managed to believe it.

Finn hadn’t been able to sleep yet. R2-D2 had trundled after him, making reproachful noises, but he ignored him. That was easier to do than it ought to be, but in his current half-numb state, everything felt distant.

This was like the crash on Jakku, when he’d believed Poe dead, only worse. Poe had simply been gone, and Finn had only known him for a handful of minutes. This time he was forced to wait helplessly, as a friend he’d cherished for years gradually slipped away. It left him torn between smouldering anger and anguish which threatened to leave him in floods of tears unless he kept moving, pacing, doing something, anything.

He made for one of the training rooms, deserted of course. The whole fleet seemed to be feeling a bone-deep exhaustion that went beyond mere physical fatigue. But still, something wouldn’t permit Finn to rest.

He hit a single light switch, just enough illumination to see by. Darkness seemed right to him at the moment and besides, he had a light source of his own.

His lightsaber snapped into life, throwing indigo light around the room as he raised it. He closed his eyes and began running through his routine. Djem So, the style Rey had picked out for him from the old manuals, was all heavily weighted attacks and tight, reactive defence. The saber felt heavier in his hands now.

His arms were like lead and his muscles fairly screamed at him, but he forced himself through the patterns, breaths hissing from between his teeth. _Attack. Follow-up. Parry. Riposte. Thrust. Parry. Counterslash._

After a minute, he broke off, breathing heavily. Fatigue burned in him, but his misery and anger were unassuaged. Going through the motions, slashing and stabbing at air, wasn’t enough. Then he looked to the side, and saw the vaguely humanoid mannequins which stood there, designed for practice with sparring weapons.

Finn glanced down at the saber, then to the targets again. In his heart, the fury uncoiled, heat flowing out to suffuse him. And the next moment, he was running.

He cut the head from the first. _Cylarei, gone_. He took the limbs off the second _. Nyzar, hacked down in indignity_. He split the third down the middle. _Comrades and friends, murdered_. He reaved through the mannequins in a frenzy of swings, sparks and bellows, imagining that these were Death Troopers and Knights of Ren instead _. And to cap it all, the dearest friend he had, teetering on the very brink of death_. He flung out a hand before clenching it, finally giving voice to his emotions, and with a metallic groan and whine a target imploded, crumpling in on itself. _And he_ _hadn't_ _been there_. He plunged his saber into the last mannequin, straining against it until the metal began to glow and bubble. He ripped the blade free and the thing came apart.

He slumped to the floor, his rage and grief echoing back at him from the walls. Eventually the sound died away, leaving him with hollow silence and the ache in his heart.

“Should we tell the rest of the Resistance about this?” Maz asked.

Poe winced. It was the conversation he had been putting off, uneasy with the idea of keeping secrets from their own side. But then, he thought back to Crait, and remembered what a reckless, desperate soldier might feel driven to. The truth about what had happened could be dangerous if it got out now. Rey’s wounding had already been a brutal blow to morale in the fleet here.

Maz’s thoughts were well ahead of his. “It’s best you decide now, before people have a chance to rest and start arguing with you. We need to think about what the enemy will do as well, Poe. After what happened over Omunak…”

Fighting among the First Order fleet, the ship crews had said. But Poe hadn’t heard the full story. “What exactly happened? You’re sure it wasn’t just friendly fire?”

She shook her head. “You didn’t see it, Poe. The _Subjugator_ and two other Star Destroyers turned on one of their own. There’s no way that that was an accident. Something in the First Order has torn wide open.”

He saw her point. “And we shouldn’t distract them from their internal business. Not to mention what… _this_ would do to their morale.” It was bad enough to consider losing his friend without remembering that she was their Jedi, their shining hope. “We keep this quiet, no word to anyone else until we’re in friendly territory. But Kylo Ren will be shouting this across the holonet soon enough, and our people deserve to hear it from us first.”

She looked at him with an expression he couldn’t easily place. “That gives you a day to figure out just what you’re going to say to Leia and the others.”

Poe sighed heavily. A doleful string of bleeps came from around his ankle; BB-8, his head drooping dejectedly. C-3PO came over, attempting awkwardly to comfort the little astromech.

Poe turned away and considered the state of his fleet and his troops. The holos floating in front of his face told a grim story of their own. The task force had been ravaged. The fighter wings had got off lightly, but even then only Black Squadron had come away intact. A full sixth of the starfighters were lost, another sixth damaged. Half of Ugly Squadron was gone, only two of Silver were left. And that wasn’t even the full picture – they weren’t yet patched into the _Vehement_ ’s feed and didn’t know how many their new allies had lost.

Poe decided to leave that for tomorrow. He was exhausted, still on his feet when so many were finally resting. Finn and Chewbacca had already keeled over in the Falcon’s hold – Poe had asked R2 to confirm that in Finn’s case. R2 had also told him about the mess in the training room, which he was willing to leave as a problem for tomorrow if it meant Finn had vented a little.

Rose too was slumbering now, on the _Vehement_. Almost everyone in the fleet was asleep, and soon the rest would traipse to bed. Absentmindedly, Poe found himself hoping that Kaydel had managed it. She’d been inconsolable when he spoke to her earlier, and he knew she wouldn’t have budged from the infirmary. If she had dropped off, she would be curled up on a bench.

Sourly, he reflected that his doting attempts at matchmaking had simply become another source of pain. And under it all, he felt a sense of injustice. He’d done nothing _wrong_. He’d been careful, damnit, and for all that, this had come down on them. He hadn’t understood just what Kylo Ren was capable of.

There, at least, was a target for his anger other than himself. Ren was going to pay for this. The bastard had tortured him before, and taken friends from him, but this was a different order of pain. Poe didn’t know how they were going to make him answer for it, but this demanded retribution.

“We need to know more about what’s happening in the First Order,” he eventually said. For himself – for all of their sakes – he needed to know that they had some way of striking back.


	33. Usurper

Hux was trying to get comfortable on the throne, with some difficulty. Just like Ren, his body wasn’t the size and shape for which it had been designed, and the black stone was hard and cold even through his uniform. He would have to see about getting the chamber adequately heated, when his rule was secure. A throne which fit him properly, too. And some proper ornamentation – banners, battle standards commemorating his victories. That might begin to make the place feel like his own.

At least Ren’s nasty old relics – the ones he’d left in the Palace, anyway – had been cleared out. They were now in the keeping of the Inquisition, and Hux found it markedly easier to breathe in the throne room now. Moreover, the ghoulish presence of the Knights had been replaced by a company of his finest troops, now liveried in bright crimson, in an echo of Snoke’s Praetorians. They leant, Hux thought, some much-needed colour to the place. Not to mention serving as a reminder of Snoke, to whom he was quite clearly the rightful successor.

There was a sudden muttering among the officers stood before the throne, shaking him out of his thoughts. A brief flicker of concerned looks, soon stilled. Hux sat up a little, fixing them all with a questioning glare.

“Supreme Leader,” Stolan said. “We have word from Omunak.”

Hux leaned forward, his heartbeat quickening. “Did they get him? Is Kylo Ren confirmed dead?”

“Sir,” Stolan said, shifting with a rare degree of discomfort. “This might be best demonstrated by the broadcast.”

“Broadcast?” Hux tried not to let his unease show. The Supreme Leader did not display weakness. He gestured to one of his attendants, and the holo-projector lit up.

It took him a full second to believe what he was seeing. His mind revolted at it, but here was the visage of Kylo Ren, undeniably and hatefully alive. And more pertinently, wracked with fury.

“Armitage Hux, former general of the First Order.” No preamble then. Just a blunt declaration. Ren’s voice boomed throughout the throne room, a wrathful thundercrack which reverberated. The image of his face was similarly outsized, filling the space before the throne. “You have made yourself a traitor to the regime and thus sentenced yourself to the most excruciating death that can be devised for you. If you have any loyalty to the First Order left, then you and your co-conspirators will submit yourselves to me upon my return and accept your fate. Otherwise, every single person who stands with you will also die for your treason. There is no wall you can hide behind that I will not tear down, no army that my forces cannot slaughter.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hux spied pale faces, queasy expressions. But enough of his lieutenants met the invective coolly, and the Stormtroopers were as stolid as ever. For his part, he kept his gaze forward, holding Ren’s holographic eye.

“As a courtesy, I give you this chance to reflect on what you’ve thrown away, Hux. You were exalted by the First Order, given the power of life and death over entire worlds. Now you have earned yourself disgrace, agony, and obliteration. Submit, and I may just cut straight to the execution.” Ren leaned closer to the camera. “Think on that, and choose wisely.”

That was it. The hologram blinked out. Hux sat back, fingertips tapping against each other. Later, he would reflect that the equipment might need recalibrating. It didn’t do for anyone to appear larger and more powerful than whoever occupied the throne.

For now, there was only a gnawing unease in his stomach, and a simmering anger which he focused on to blot out his worries. Anger was good, anger was righteous and gave him purpose.

It had plenty of targets. The would-be assassins for their clear failure. At Torqueda, who had devised the attempt – but that too could come later. Right now, the main source of his ire was Kylo Ren himself, once again surviving when he had no right to do so.

“There was another announcement,” Stolan continued. “Ren claims to have killed the Jedi, the one he claims killed Snoke.” Another propaganda victory for Ren.

“Then at least he’s done us that service,” Hux remarked, hoping it sounded as dry as he tried to make it. Hoping that they couldn’t tell that his blood was close to boiling.

There was a quiet cough from among the gathered officers. “It’s been broadcast to the entire Galaxy,” Torqueda observed. “A deceptively layered message. Quite cunning really, when you consider Ren’s full meaning.”

Hux didn’t have the time or inclination to admire Ren’s hidden subtleties. He balled his fists to hide the tremor in his fingers and forced a level tone. “Put the throne worlds on a full war footing. Maintain the lockdown here and reallocate assets from other worlds. Take them from garrisons wherever we can afford to, strip the training camps of any cadets who can fight – and be trusted.”

They would not be stationed within the Palace itself. Hux already had the shape of the deployment in his head. There were fortresses across the planet and the stations above, all of them host to hardened soldiers who could be more profitably used here. Ren’s objective above all would be the Palace, but those locations would need to be secured first. Hux could exploit that, just as he could across the other Throne Worlds. Sacrificial pieces, all, and when Ren took those he would weaken himself.

He raised his voice further. “Ren’s attack will break on us like fire on stone and disperse. He can rage all he likes, but we will remain unscathed. He will perish in disgrace, revealed for the lunatic he truly is.” That was the old officer’s training, the snarling rhetoric which he excelled at. The Stormtroopers were primed to respond to it, and he could see the fervour it stoked in the eyes of Stolan and the officers.

Torqueda, however, looked less certain. “Sir, the risk inherent in claiming those cadets-”

“Is nothing to the risk if we fail to guard ourselves properly against the usurper!” Hux snapped back.

He knew what Torqueda would say; the cadets were unproven, especially when faced with the battle-hardened legions who served Kylo Ren. The 17th, the 9th, the 108th and the black 66th… those butchers would chew through raw recruits and never once pause. But if the inexperienced troops slowed down the enemy advance, if killing a division of them depleted power packs and the invaders lost time to that, if their deaths allowed Hux to hold out until reinforcements arrived, then they would have been of use.

What one man would dismiss as a pile of corpses, a stronger and wise man would make into a barricade. That was the old saying, wasn’t it, about desperate times and desperate measures?

Not that he was about to speak of it in those terms. He rose to his feet. “We are the First Order! The Galaxy is ours by right of conquest, its people our coin to spend!”

This, he knew, was simply what it took to ensure that true order survived. Purges and violent upheaval were part of the process. Corruption like this could only be removed forcibly. That was as it should be. Palpatine had understood that. So had Snoke and so, for all his faults, had Hux’s father. Ren’s survival and impending return only served to drag it out into the open.

“I have given my life to this regime and now that we have dragged it from the clutches of misrule, I will _not_ permit it to slip back!”

He drew himself up, eyes roving over the assembled officers and troops, challenging any of them to dissent. As one, they saluted. “No backward step,” he snarled. “We are in this to the death.”

Training encampments were emptied in nearby sectors, Star Destroyers roving into orbit and departing with their holds full. Across systems close to Gorothad, fortresses teemed with nervous new garrisons, their overseers stalking grimly through the ranks and watching for any sign of weakness. Squads were formulated accordingly. Those most likely to break would be placed in the line of fire first, where their frailty would cause the fewest problems. The veterans were held back, where they would be most useful.

As Kylo Ren’s flotilla made their vengeful way back towards the Throne Worlds, the Supreme Leader did the same; incorporating fleets into his, seconding occupation troops, stripping academies of trainees and issuing them with weapons. Even indigenous defence forces, which served with the First Order’s temporary approval, were claimed. Vehicles fresh from the factory were snapped up by requisition fleets.

Pryde and Ren carefully set roles for each division and company, based on their experience and ability – a process abetted by the First Order’s adroit record-keeping. Just like Hux, they designated most of the new additions as sacrificial assets.

“Ablative casualties”, they were called. An old Imperial euphemism, a polite phrase for units whose true purpose was to be expended, draining enemy resources or providing cover for more valuable assets.

That method found less favour with the Empire’s successors. But facing their own kind, both Hux and Ren had made the same calculations. Every advantage must be exploited, no matter the cost. And for Hux and Ren alike, all considerations paled beside their struggle. Nothing less than control of the Galaxy was at stake.

Both claimants to the throne sent out a call to arms, each calling upon the generals and admirals of the First Order to fulfil their oaths to the First Order and defend the rule of its rightful master. Some chose their side quickly, if they had not already, hastening to add their strength to Ren’s or Hux’s. Others found themselves caught in the path of an oncoming fleet and were commanded to fall in line or be destroyed. Some of those capitulated, others chose to resist and die.

Among those lucky enough to be on the sidelines, however, there were commanders who preferred to sit back and watch the situation as it developed, waiting to see if a likely victor emerged. When the fighting reached Gorothad, or if Ren’s advance was somehow stalled, they would move to the warzone and fall upon the losing side.

They weren’t the only ones watching. Deployments on this scale could never be concealed, and Resistance spies took note. Quickly, as their missives reached the commanders, a picture began to form. A brewing conflict which would rip the First Order in two. And in the First Order’s riven state, a potential source of hope for the downtrodden.

The Galaxy held its breath.


	34. Sacrifice

Somewhere indeterminate, without any sense of space or time, Rey floated. She was inert, formless, sunk so deep that she couldn’t even see which way was up or if there was an up at all.

She should be dead. She knew that. Her body was broken. The memories were razor-sharp in her mind. She couldn’t summon up the memory of the sensation. To her surprise, she found that she felt robbed by that, craving even the pain just to feel something again.

But everything else was vivid.

Scents of woodsmoke, scorched fabric, the sharp, acrid tang of her own burned blood… her screams of anger, then despair and finally pain. And as she sank into the memory again and again, she caught other cries. An enraged yell from Tannell when Ren plunged his blade through Cylarei’s heart, LM’s mechanical lament when Nyzar fell. And later, when she was swept over the ledge, Kaydel’s scream.

Too much. Too much sorrow, and too much guilt. She fled from the memory, but all else was a haze. She was confined, more profoundly than she ever had been on Jakku. She was denied any way to measure and mark the passing of time: no calendar, no wall to scratch the tally of days into.

At length, out of the murk there came visions, swimming up out of the depths. They came to her fleetingly. She saw the cave from her dream again, the myriad phantoms. But this time she found no purchase there at all, and the vision came apart as soon as her eyes attuned to that faint, beckoning glow. _You are nothing_ , the voice of Kylo Ren told her, _and to nothing you return_.

She was beaten, crushed by her enemy. She ought to have been taken by nothingness already, as Ren’s voice insisted. And yet death refused her, keeping her held at the threshold as her body slowly gave up. Some dim trace of awareness told her it was coming. She would face the end just as she had feared she would; alone and in the dark, having failed the ones she cared for most.

In the end, was her fate – deterioration, this decaying orbit – any different from the pauper’s grave where her parents had ended up?

That realisation was its own pain, a soul-deep ache. There was no excising it, no way to weep or scream or rage at her fate. Despair engulfed her, drowned and permeated her. All she could do was wait for it to end.

Finally, Poe and Maz deemed the fleet out of immediate danger. They were well beyond the border of the Tion Sector now, floating again in the deep void. Now Poe had a chance to really take stock of the damage to their remaining ships – and the vessels which had been lost. A full quarter of their little fleet which, he had to remind himself, constituted them getting off lightly. If Ren’s fleet hadn’t fallen into infighting, the _Vehement_ would have been boarded or destroyed, and the Resistance fleet trapped and blasted to atoms.

“You haven’t shaved,” Finn said by way of greeting, giving him a concerned frown.

“Huh?” Poe ran a hand over his chin and found heavy stubble. “Bah, I haven’t got time to shave right now.”

The same could be said for the rest of the fleet. He’d set the personnel to carrying out repairs, had his officers recombining the most ravaged squads and companies. Finn, for his part, had led the clean-up in the training hall, clearing the mess thoroughly enough that Poe had decided not to raise the issue with him.

Despite the activity, the mood on the _Rapscallion_ hadn’t improved much. The crews and companies were listless. Even BB-8 was still miserable.

He turned to Finn, lowering his voice. “Any word from Rose and the _Vehement_? Any change with Rey?”

Finn exhaled slowly, steeling himself before speaking. “She’s clinging on like nothing else, but still getting worse. Even if we had the tech to fix her… kriff.” He blinked back tears. “You’d be looking at making another Vader out of her to bring her back.” 

Poe shuddered. The very idea of doing that to anyone, let alone Rey, was unconscionable.

“I hate this, Poe,” Finn whispered. “I can’t stand to see her go this way.”

“I know, Finn.”

Maz spoke up. “General.”

Poe didn’t hear her. “But Rey wouldn’t want us to give up.”

“General.”

“We’ve got to push - wait, what’s that?” Then he realised it was the chirp of the holo-unit, confirmed by Maz’s look of mild, patient exasperation. They had an incoming contact – a Resistance signature, but a remote one. Coming from the _Solo_ of all places.

He gave the comms officer the nod, and D’Acy’s image materialised in front of them.

He was so surprised that he forgot formality. “Larma? The hell are you doing here?” There hadn’t been any contacts scheduled, for fear of the First Order intercepting.

“Rey,” she replied, and the bridge fell silent. Finn saw Poe shoot Maz a suspicious look, and get a shake of the head in reply.

“How’d you…” Poe stopped himself. “Leia?”

She must have felt Rey’s wounding, he guessed, just like Finn had. From the looks on Finn and Maz’s faces, they’d intuited it as well. Leia must be summoning them – though why wasn’t she the one sending the message?

“If I might make so bold…” To Poe’s surprised, ‘so bold’ actually meant C-3PO. He looked nervously around, but none of them objected. “Where is the General?”

“And where are we meeting you?” Poe followed.

“To answer both of those questions,” D’Acy replied. “We’re coming to you.”

Maz passed the word on to the other shipmasters, even as proximity alerts rang out and ships jumped into view. Leia had brought a small fleet along with the _Solo_ , though the escorts parted to let the battleship through. It advanced on the _Vehement_.

Another voice rang from the comms unit. Arron. “Commander Dameron, your battleship is requesting we let a shuttle on board.”

Poe caught Finn’s eye and nodded. Leia must already be on that shuttle. _Why?_

He kept the question to himself. “Do it, Captain. We’ll be there shortly.” He turned to Maz. “Point me at a working transport. Finn, we’re going over.”

They grabbed Chewbacca and those escapees who they’d brought aboard during the battle, Jaicyn among them. The former Stormtroopers all seemed a bit lost on the Resistance ship and didn’t stray far from the hangar – and took some of the gunships over, setting down next to Leia’s shuttle. Maz and C-3PO had decided to come with them, and none of them had seen any reason to argue. Poe noted that there were still a handful of Resistance troopers stood around the transport, eyeing their surroundings uncomfortably.

Rose was waiting for them, flanked by Jannah and Arron. The captain’s truncated arm was in a sling, though he seemed to be bearing up pretty well. Finn took a few halting steps forward towards Rose, and they fell into each other’s arms. After a few moments, Finn felt brave enough to pull away and ask. “Where are they?”

“Already making for the infirmary.”

“Then we’d better follow,” Poe said as he moved past them. Jannah beckoned, and the others hurried along in their wake.

“What’s she doing?” Jannah wondered out loud. “They say the General’s strong with the Force, but what can she do for Rey?”

“There’s one possibility,” Maz responded, almost jogging to keep up with their longer strides. “But it will… oh my.”

Finn’s breath caught in his chest. He and Rose realised in the same moment. “The healing.”

Maz nodded rapidly. “But if Leia intends to do that for Rey, in her state… it will take _everything_.”

Their rapid strides carried them into the infirmary and almost into a medical officer, who moved straight to Arron and Jannah.

“Carey,” Arron started. “What’s happening in there?”

“Organa – I mean the General, she’s... she’s ordered the medics to disconnect the apparatus from Rey.”

Poe heard a sharp intake of breath from Maz. Instinctively, they all looked to her, even Arron seeming to defer to the little privateer. “Leia knows what must be done. We have to let her.”

Kaydel, now they could see her, looked less certain about that. Poe saw her now, stood opposite Leia. They were behind glass and it stole the sound of their voices, but Kaydel’s expression was fraught. She looked as though she was torn between hope and despair, eyes wide and brimming with tears, pleading with Leia and protesting at the same time.

“Maz,” Finn asked, “you said it would take everything.” His question rode on the words, with no small amount of fear.

Maz took a breath. “What Rey did for Kaydel was the direct transfer of life force from one being to another. It was never recognised as part of the healing arts, not like the more gradual techniques, and the Jedi discouraged it save for the direst circumstances.”

Leia put a hand on Kaydel’s shoulder. Kaydel seemed to relent, her face scrunching up as Leia embraced her. Then she was stepping aside, and Leia moved to Rey’s bed.

“But,” Maz continued. “I think Leia has decided this moment is desperate enough.”

Leia’s back was to them, but there was still an ineffable sense of sorrow and weariness. Kaydel had retreated to the corner of the room, hands clutched to her mouth. Gently, Leia pulled the respirator from Rey’s face. Then she laid a hand on her wounded stomach, and they all felt a sudden thrum in the air of the infirmary.

Into Rey’s cold, dark solitude, something intruded.

At first it was almost imperceptible, but the second she noticed it, the effect was profound. It was as it a light had been brought into the darkest corner of some deep ocean. In her unmoored, weightless state, there was suddenly an up and a down. And from above, something beckoning, reaching for her, lifting her up from the depths.

No. Someone.

“Leia”, she breathed, and suddenly there was sensation. Her consciousness again encompassed her broken body. There was pain among it all, but it was far off, cushioned by Leia’s soothing presence.

Pressure, now. A hand on her forehead and another, pressing a little harder, on her torso. Leia’s touch.

And through them, she felt the flow of energy between them. Not just the power of the Force but something she recognised as more vital. The same thing she’d done to Kaydel, but far stronger. Leia’s own essence was bleeding out of her as she channelled it into Rey.

“No, Leia,” she said, and heard her own words as if from far off, felt the merest suggestion of her eyes prickling with tears. Weakly, she raised a hand and found Leia’s wrist. “Stop… you can’t…”

But there was no overruling her. The power that had gone untapped for so long flooded into Rey, knitting bone, muscle and skin back together.

Noises, outside her, far distant. Murmurings and protests building into gasps and then cries of anguish and loss. She heard C-3PO crying aloud, a sob from Kaydel and Chewbacca howling.

Leia was weakening, burning herself out, and yet there was no end to the flood of energy which poured into Rey until…

She slowly pulled herself upright, eyes easing open. There was light. Searing, too bright to see for a moment. And by the time she could see, Leia’s presence had fallen away into nothingness.

Rey found herself clutching at an empty gown. Leia was gone. Gone, like Han, like Luke. And the grief surged up inside her, for all of them, for everyone and everything she’d lost.

It was too much. She buckled, tears coursing silently down her face. Kaydel approached, her own face awash with tears, and without a word she embraced Rey.

Poe stood, one hand pressed against the glass, the other gripping Finn’s shoulder tightly. Rose had her arms around Finn, sobbing into his other shoulder. Around them, the rest were still. Not one of them spoke, though all of them wept, unable to process what they had seen.

It took the chittering of his comms unit to snap him out of it.

D’Acy’s voice. “Commander, we’ve lost Leia’s signal. What’s happened in there?”

Finn slipped away to enter the room and embrace Rey, who seemed as distraught as any of them.

“Larma, she’s…” Poe’s voice cracked. “Leia’s gone.”

Her breath came shuddering through the little speaker. “How, Poe?”

“She…” he struggled for the words, not wanting to say them and accept the truth, but forcing himself to. “She sacrificed herself, Larma. To keep the spark alive.”


	35. Grieving

Ren awoke with a start and came off the bed in a single motion. He was reaching for his lightsaber before he realised there was no threat in the room with him, and that what he had felt was far off. Far off, and yet it was inside him too. As the aftershocks reverberated through him, he rasped a word he had not used in almost a decade.

“ _Mother_.”

She was gone. The last living family member he had, the one link to the past he hadn’t been able to cut away, now gone.

He came out of the combat stance and stepped away from the bed, feeling unbalanced in a way that he couldn’t entirely put down to fatigue. Only now did the chill of the marble under his bare feet become apparent.

The lights were low, but enough for Ren to see by. Regarding himself in the mirror, he watched how the scar which disfigured the left side of his stomach contorted with his laboured breathing. He’d sustained that, of course, when he killed his father.

Everything about that act had been immediate, death delivered by his own hand. But this stood in total contrast. It was not of his doing, and he felt it from what seemed like half the Galaxy away.

He reached out into the Force, following the echoes. What had caused it? What had finally got her? The lingering effects of void exposure, perhaps, or the strain of leading the Resistance. Perhaps even the shock of him felling Rey, carried through the Force. She hadn’t been killed – violence would have been apparent to him. A user of the Dark Side was, of course, especially sensitive to that. So what, then?

Understanding eluded him. The Force was occluded. She was simply gone, and he couldn’t determine why.

So here he was, cut loose from his bloodline and having rid himself of his master and counterpart alike. His link with Rey too had gone hollow and cold, before it died away altogether. Unburdened… or unmoored?

All his personal connections, save to the friends who he had turned into his thralls, were gone now. Even Luke’s spirit was silent. That was vindication in its own right, he supposed, yet it also left him alone, save for the Knights, slumbering in their own quarters.

_No_ , he told himself. _This is what supremacy means. One to embody the power, for there can be only one upon the throne._

Which was when he remembered that right now, Hux occupied that throne. His empty hand balled into a fist at the mere thought, his lips peeled back from his teeth. A pretender, a weakling who would have everything he had done and sacrificed rendered meaningless. Hux should have learned his place when Ren throttled him into submission before. He’d had his chance.

Ren turned back to the mirror, running fingers through his beard. It struck him that he looked leaner than he had before, his body whittled down until only muscle, bone and tendon remained. Had he missed that change? When had that corpeslike pallor settled into his skin? That marble white, on which filth and gore showed so starkly after a battle.

Perhaps it had been during his exploration of the unquiet catacombs on Malachor, and the struggle with the spectres that infested in it. His eyes ran over the scar which nearly bisected his face – when had he grown used to that?

For a moment he allowed the nagging thoughts to bubble back up to the surface, hearing his uncle’s injunctions once more. That these were marks of diminishment, his body and soul being hollowed out by the Dark Side.

But that implied that the Dark Side was claiming him, as if he didn’t have mastery over his own power. And that was a falsehood – had he not just killed the last warrior in this Galaxy who could stand against him?

A contemptuous smile twisted his face. The idea of degeneration was for children and weaklings. Ren felt the power that coursed through him and knew better. The strong were strongest if they stood apart, free of any taint from the weak.

Why, after all, should Rey’s failure to choose the right side be his weakness? He had told her that she couldn’t carry the legacy of the Jedi, and in trying to prove him wrong, she had been crushed. Just as he had told her.

The saber was still in his grip. He turned it over, noticing it as if for the first time. On the crosspiece, there remained a few traces of ash and blood.

He was so close being rid of the enemies who had dogged him. Just a few more pushes, putting down Hux's coup and grinding out what remained of his mother’s brigands.

_They will all be crushed. You next, Hux._

Torches, clutched in thousands of hands, burned brightly under the darkening sky. Rey moved slowly forward among the crowd, a black hood drawn over her head. Her friends were around her, dressed similarly.

Ahead was a little shrine, firelit. With no body to lay to rest, they’d improvised a cairn and built a small pyre atop it, burning Alderaanian incense in keeping with the traditions of Leia’s long-lost homeworld. There were a number of Resistance commanders up there – all veterans apart from Poe. There was Wedge Antilles next to D’Acy, and beside him Admiral Lando Calrissian, exchanging his usual luxuriant garb for sombre colours.

They were stood on another planet which Leia had, for a long time, called home. Yavin IV, its ancient pyramids bathed in pink and red light by the last rays of the setting sun. Above, those rays also caught the ships which orbited the planet. This was the world in whose skies the Battle of the First Death Star had been fought and won. Where the Rebel Alliance had proven that the Galaxy might know hope again.

And yet Rey could find no hope for herself. She felt hollowed out. Leia had restored her body, but her spirit couldn’t be mended the same way. It gnawed at her, this feeling of uselessness. Ren had proven he could destroy her, barely even breaking a sweat in the process. That despair had hung over her since she awoke from her coma.

When they’d released her from the infirmary, letting her return to her cabin, she’d found herself in floods of tears. She couldn’t even begin to articulate her grief and despair to Kaydel; all she would do was give incoherent voice to it all, convulsing with sobs as Kaydel held her and wept with her.

It wasn’t just Leia she was mourning. Nyzar and Cylarei’s deaths hung as heavy on her as they had during her coma. Luke and Han came to mind too; the ceremony was a painful reminder that she’d never got to pay them the same farewell.

She’d been too slow, too afraid, when Ren intruded. _Had I acted in time, I could have kept him from Kaydel_. And then when the battle came, her reckless assault on Ren had led Nyzar and Cylarei onto the blades of the Knights. _There’s blood on my hands, the blood of my friends and my last mentor._

As if reading her thoughts, Kaydel reached out and took hold of her arm. Rey placed her hand over Kaydel’s and squeezed, trying to put on a brave face.

She knew that the General’s loss grieved Kaydel just as deeply as it did her; Leia had been Kaydel’s idol and a solid, reassuring presence since she joined the Resistance. Through years of alternating ridicule and distrust from the Republic, trying in vain to warn them of the danger, Leia had been unbent and undaunted. In the weeks of freefall after the Starkiller, she had held the Resistance together. And over two years after that, she had been the heart of the movement as it rebuilt itself. Suddenly, the Resistance found itself staring at a future without its founder, the woman who had been its heart.

A scream of engines brought faces snapping up to watch as half a dozen fighters streaked past. A commemorative flyover – two X-Wings, a B-Wing, a Y-Wing and a pair of A-Wings, all drawn from different squadrons. They shot into the distance, just beginning to arc back around as they disappeared from view.

As the thunder of their passing died, Poe began to sing, and around him a few people joined in. It was another Alderaanian song, a lament which Kaydel quickly picked up. Rey joined in, then others did too, some simply humming. But soon the song was taken up by the entire crowd, as tears ran freely down faces and the sun dropped away.

It felt, Rey thought, like the kind of mourning she should have been able to give for Han and Luke as well. All three of them now, all three of the old heroes who’d shepherded her through this journey, gone.

D’Acy took to the stand, beside the pyre. What little noise there was from the crowd died away, leaving only the sound of the pyre.

Her voice shook as she spoke. “This speech was hard enough to give when Leia was merely injured above Crait, but she always taught us that we can’t shy away from what’s difficult. If she hadn’t believed that, the Resistance would never have been formed. We owe it to the Galaxy, and to our general, to fight on. The chain of command is clear.” She paused, letting the crackle of the flames become the only sound again. “Commander Poe Dameron.”

The hush deepened as Poe moved to the centre of the dais and knelt before D’Acy.

“By Leia’s will, you are hereby named general, commander-in-chief of the Resistance.”

A murmur met the announcement, but no disagreement.

Poe got to his feet, turning to face the crowd. “Friends,” he began. “First, I want to thank you for your trust in me. There were times when I wouldn’t have deserved it.” He paused. “But I can’t dwell on that all night. There’s no ignoring this; the Resistance has suffered a dreadful loss. Leia brought us together and kept the ship steady in the face of everything the First Order could throw at us. Losing her could only ever hurt us – but as she herself said, it’s no good believing in the light only when you can see it.”

Rey saw people nodding around her. Poe continued. “Even now, there’s hope. Our spies have confirmed that the First Order has descended into outright civil war. Battered as we are, they have given us an opportunity like we’ve never before. We have a chance to strike at them, hit them where it hurts most, and we need to seize it.” A low rumble of agreement ran through the crowd, and Rey saw Kaydel shoot her a glance. She tried to look like she felt as encouraged as the rest, trying to set her jaw determinedly.

Kaydel, naturally, wasn’t fooled for a second.

Jannah emerged from the ranks of the former Stormtroopers and approached Poe. She carried her blaster, the weapon lying flat on her palms. The white paint had been stripped from its casing.

She knelt, holding it out him. “General, you and your troops fought for our freedom when you owed us nothing, and sacrificed many lives to save us from Ren. By common consensus, we’ve agreed to repay that debt. If you’ll have us, we’ll fight for the Resistance until our dying breaths. We’ll be with you in your war against the First Order.”

Poe beckoned her up and embraced her. “No one kneels to anyone else in the Resistance, Jannah. And your offer is gladly accepted. I welcome you, and everyone else on the _Vehement_ , to the Resistance.”

Jannah inclined her head. “Thank you, General. Just one thing – our ship’s no longer the _Vehement_. From now on, she’s the _Defiance_.”

A murmur of approval emanated from the crowd at that.

Poe nodded approvingly. "A fine name, Jannah. And you've proven yourselves more than worthy of it." He and Jannah saluted one another, and she withdrew into the crowd.

Poe turned again to his audience, seeming to struggle briefly to find the right words. But the fire was back in his eyes now. “I won’t pretend to know what Leia would say now, but I’m not going to stand here and tell you to bury your feelings. If we don’t acknowledge what we’ve lost, then we cease to be ourselves. So now, we grieve. We weep tonight, because tomorrow we need to rise with clear eyes, and carry on the fight.”

There wasn’t a cheer, just a rumble of weary assent. Slowly, the crowd dispersed. Eventually, even Chewbacca had gone trudging back to the Falcon, leaving Rey and Kaydel alone on the square.

Rey walked haltingly over to the cairn. Her injuries were gone, but the memory of the pain was still cruelly strong in her mind. Robbed of her staff’s reassuring weight on her shoulders, her movements were furtive compared to her old stride and she slumped to her knees when she reached the cairn.

She stretched out one hand, laying it on the piled stones. With the other, she felt the scar which Ren had left her, a ridge of tissue which ran across her abdominal muscles. The indelible mark of her defeat – of her failure.

“Rey?” Kaydel took hold of her shoulders, gently massaging them.

She tried and failed to find the words, trying desperately not to collapse into tears. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t be what the Resistance needed her to be. “I don’t know what to do, Kaydel. I’m lost.”

And then a voice floated out of the dark, dry with age, weighted with sorrow and yet rich and warm. “You’re not lost if you haven’t finished building, Rey.”

She looked up. There, at long last, he was, and she felt a rush of disbelieving happiness. “Master Skywalker?”

Luke’s spirit stepped out from behind the trees, a sad smile on his old, bearded face. He stood straighter than he had in life, however, and his stance was purposeful. In the same way, his appearance was different – the hair was cut shorter, the beard neater, the garb altogether sharper.

Rey turned to Kaydel, and unsurprisingly she looked baffled. Rey grinned nervously at her. “I promise I’m not going mad, just…”

Because that would definitely wash when she’d just come out of a coma, and was about to say she was seeing someone who wasn’t there. But Kaydel, bless her, smiled shakily back. “Jedi business?”

“Yes, that.”

Kaydel pulled Rey to her feet and hugged her, kissing her on the cheek. “Then come find me at the Falcon when you’re done, huh?”

“I hear and obey.” Then Kaydel was off, leaving Rey with Luke. She moved over to him, and for a few seconds they were silent.

“Hello again, Rey.” Luke cast his gaze towards the cairn, where the pyre was down to embers. “A sorrowful time, on two counts. Leia’s passing grieves us all, and well…” His eyebrows twitched upwards. “You and I didn’t exactly part on the best terms.”

She winced a little. “I think I owe you an apology for that too.”

He shrugged affably. “The knock to the head wasn’t entirely undeserved, though I accept your apology. Neither of us were as considerate as we might’ve been. But cutting to the point, I owe you one last lesson.”

Rey shook her head. “What can you teach me – I mean, what can I hope for to give me an edge? He… Ren has grown so far beyond me.” The dam which had stopped her from explaining to Kaydel broke. “This thing I’m trying to carry, the legacy of the Jedi, it’s too much. I can’t, I don’t know how to rebuild what you’ve left me.”

Luke’s wise old eyes regarded her. “You’ve got plenty to learn, but the lesson you need right now, that will take root _here_.” He pointed to her heart, and Rey hesitantly raised a hand to it.

“What will that do?”

“Restore your strength of spirit. All through this, you’ve been carrying yourself like the same scavenger you were on Jakku, fretting about how to preserve our legacy. But the Jedi Order isn’t some pristine relic. Through the millennia, it’s been broken down and put back together time and again.” He smiled gently. “And the result of rebuilding is never quite the same as its old self.”

Rey nodded, seeing where this was headed. “So just as it needs rebuilding…”

“You’ll have to do the same for yourself.” Luke sat down on a gnarled old tree stump, gazing briefly toward the pyramids before his eyes returned to her. “You’re not walking the same path as the old Order, Rey. You’re a Grey Jedi through and through, and that’s the full form you need to grow into. A part of the Galaxy, not holding yourself apart from it. Then you’ll be able to stand against the First Order again, and prevail.

“And to that end,” he carried on, “you’ll set a course tomorrow for Jedha, and travel to the ravine where its Holy City once stood. There, you will descend into the depths and from those depths, you will arise as a Jedi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm damned if I'm not hypothetically using Billie Lourd, Oscar Isaac and Daisy Ridley's vocal talents to tug heartstrings. If you want an idea of the feels I'm going for, go search Billie singing American Girl. Though the song is more along [these lines](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SOpy0-tNe50).


	36. Moving Out

She went to the new General at daybreak. Unsurprisingly, Poe was sceptical, but Rey pressed her case.

“You don’t need me to help you organise the Resistance, my command was only joint with Finn in the first place, and I’ll be most useful with a proper weapon in my hands. I’ll be back within the two weeks and it’s not even like the First Order are patrolling near Jedha anymore.” Not now that Hux and Ren were calling every squadron to their respective banners. “Please, let me go…”

Poe had held her gaze throughout, arms folded across his chest. And too late, it struck Rey that not once in her argument had she addressed him by rank.

“…General,” she added lamely. _Kriff…_

Poe sighed, looking away and stroking the short beard he’d grown since Omunak. “You’re still talking about going to a ruined world on a treasure hunt.”

“Poe,” Finn interjected. “You don’t know how much this matters to Rey.”

“And I can’t consult the ghost of Luke Skywalker for a second opinion,” Poe replied. Then his voice softened, a wry smile finally surfacing on his face. “But I’m very aware that Leia gave her life to bring you back to us, Rey. I don’t know the Force, but then that’s why I’ve got you guys.” He put a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “Go. Take the Falcon and the Scrappers with you.”

Chewbacca interjected, thumping his chest. R2 beeped enthusiastically.

Poe laughed, smiling at the Wookie and the droid. “I had assumed you’d both be going with her, so no objections from me. Take off as soon as you’re ready, hurry back, and good luck.”

Rey bowed her head a little, relieved. “Thank you, General.”

Everyone was moving out from Yavin IV, sooner or later. Poe was calling together the entire Resistance for the attack on Gorothad, setting Agnoa as the muster point. So the Yavin IV base was being stripped of everything which could be put to use, and the same process was taking place on other worlds. The Millennium Falcon was just one of a dozen ships taking off and quitting the atmosphere – though Finn knew that it alone was setting course for Jedha.

It unsettled him to see the Falcon leave without him, especially now. He and Rey had been near-inseparable for so long, it was difficult to watch his friend head off to a distant, dangerous system. But Poe had other plans for him and Rose, and there was plenty to keep Finn occupied.

As well as their existing assets, Poe was looking to secure any other support he could. That meant sending out diplomatic missions across the Galaxy, taking advantage of the First Order’s sudden distraction. A risky step – the enemy still had eyes and ears out there somewhere – but considering the fight to come, Poe and the rest of the Resistance leadership considered it an acceptable risk.

Rose was among those undertaking the recruitment missions, shepherded by Maz on the _Rapscallion_.

“They’ll make for Gatalena, then head out from there,” Poe gestured to the trajectory laid out on a star chart. “Rounding up anyone willing to join.”

Finn took it all in, fingers tapping against his chin. “I’d better get packed too.”

“Actually…” Finn had already taken one step away. He turned back. Poe looked a little uncomfortable, weighing the words he was about to say. "You won't want to hear this, and I don't want to have to say it."

“It’s about Rose, isn’t it?” Finn could already guess where this was going, and suddenly his limbs felt much heavier. "You can't let me go with her."

Poe inclined his head. "Not this time, no more than I could have you going to Jedha. After Omunak, we can't risk both our Jedi at once. And besides,” he said, his tone lightening in a way that brought Finn up short. “I need my new commander here."

"Commander?"

Then the realisation hit him. Poe's expression was a little amused, but his voice was firm. "You heard. Someone's gotta be responsible for our new friends, and you know how to get the best out of them. And Jannah doesn't want anyone else leading them anyway," he added with a smile.

For a moment, Finn’s thoughts were full of that. _Commander Finn. Poe’s giving me a whole division._ Then his mind went back to his girlfriend. “But Rose…”

Poe put a hand on his shoulder. “Rose will be with Maz and her squadron. Can’t promise she’ll be fine, but there’ll be good people looking out for her. Still, you oughta get yourself to the hangar. Go say your farewells, pal.”

Poe had already said his goodbyes to Rose and Maz, and Finn found that he’d rather head out to the hangar on his own. Rose was stood by her shuttle, ready to embark.

“There you are,” she grinned. Then she frowned. “You’re not packed.”

“Rose…”

He tried to find the right words, but Rose beat him to it. “Poe needs you to stay.”

“Yeah.” The word came out as a sigh. “You OK with that, Rose?”

“It’s scary,” she admitted. “I can't refuse Poe when there’s so much riding on this, but… to go out into the Galaxy and pull an army together? From people so frightened they just want to hide forever and hope they just get passed by?”

“Well,” he said. “You've done it before. You did it for me, remember.” He moved closer. “You took a guy who just days before, was wearing the other side's colours. Who only cared about keeping one friend safe and didn't understand how many people he owed his life to. Who just wanted to run. And you turned him into _proud_ Rebel scum.”

Rose laughed a little at that.

“I'm serious.” He laid his hands on her shoulders. “You made me care about more than my friends, and even the Resistance. And you know what Jyn Erso knew; this is a regime too evil to not resist. So you're gonna go out there, you're gonna tell the Galaxy like you told me, and our spark will light that fire at long last.”

She took his wrists in her hands, eyes brimming. “Aye, Commander.”

“I’ve got you to thank for that.” He took a deep breath. “Rose, if I don’t see you again, I…”

“I know,” she smiled.

He straightened his back a little, still gazing into her eyes. “Well, I’m saying it anyway. I love you.”

She threw her arms around him and kissed him. “Love you too.” She headed towards the ship, and then turned to face him again. “If you beat us there, Finn, give ‘em hell.”

He tried to keep a stoic face on. “And if we don't make it to the end, you do the same.”

Rose smiled and nodded. Then she was heading up the ramp, before the _Spark_ took wing and disappeared from view. Finn watched all the while, jaw clenched with the effort of keeping his emotions in check.

_Stay safe, Rose. Stay safe for me._

Jedha was a name that every child in the Galaxy knew. For thousands of years, it had been the Holy Moon, and given its name to the Jedi. A vital part of the Order’s traditions, where Padawans would delve in the caverns for Kyber crystals to power their lightsabers. Later, the Empire had pillaged those same resources for their planet-killer, and tested it on the moon itself.

And, with the destruction of the Holy City, Jedha had become the first place in the Galaxy to suffer the attentions of a Death Star. That attack had left a crater a hundred kilometres across, a wound visible from the first moment the Falcon exited hyperspace. It looked as though a chunk of the moon had simply been excised, though of course Kaydel knew it had been much more violent than that. Their destination lay at the heart of that crater.

Lightning whipped through the thick clouds to the south. This would be a rough flight, and as they entered the atmosphere, Kaydel began to pick up tectonic readings too. The ground wasn’t much more stable than the air on Jedha.

“A lost relic of the Jedi’s origins,” Kuoma said gravely, staring down at the blighted surface. Jedha was the birthplace of his old order; it must hurt to see it like this. “A symbol of the Empire’s crimes.”

“Old Master Skywalker clearly likes his symbols,” Kaydel responded. On her shoulder, Gial whimpered. He didn’t like the view any more than she did, and as the ship wobbled again he hopped down into her lap, snuggling against her stomach.

Cradling the Porg, Kaydel leaned forward to look at Rey and realised she wasn’t entirely listening to any of them. “You good, Rey?”

Rey glanced back and nodded, flashing her a little smile. But it was only momentary – because this time she wasn’t navigating by instruments or sight, at least not mainly.

“It’s stronger now,” Rey murmured. “The presence here.”

Kaydel eyed her nervously. Rey had begun to feel something in the Force even before they left hyperspace. It was like what she’d sensed on Vatel, she claimed, but far stronger, tied to the planet itself.

“But it’s still far off,” Rey carried on, speaking to no one in particular. “It’s… buried.” She seemed to snap out of her half-trance, activating a few sensors on the console. Kaydel watched as the surface images resolved into a crevasse, narrow but deep.

A change in the engine’s pitch told her that they were landing. She looked again at the crevasse, and then hard at Rey. “You’re not serious.”

Rey was already undoing her seatbelt, ceding the controls to Chewbacca as the Falcon touched down. She got out of her seat and made an apologetic face. “This is the spot.”

Kaydel slumped a little in her seat, still patting Gial. “I hate it when she’s serious.” Chewie commiserated, while she put her head back and sighed. After a moment she picked Gial up, stood and set him down, and followed Rey into the hold.

She found her already close to ready, pulling on a climbing harness and holstering her blaster. Kaydel went to find the cables she’d need for the descent. The Scrappers – minus Ki’rii, who’d stayed with Poe and Finn as she recovered – had already moved out to inspect the area. “What did the scopes say about depth?”

“Sixty-seven metres.”

Kaydel swallowed her protests and picked out a coil accordingly, to go with the pitons. Then she ducked into the armoury for Rey’s helmet. “You gonna want your vambraces for the climb, Rey?” She didn’t get an answer. “Rey?”

When she turned, what she found broke her heart a little. Rey was staring into the corner where her staff had always been propped. Her hands kept opening and closing helplessly.

Kaydel approached her, embracing her from behind with her free arm. “It still hurts, doesn’t it?”

Rey sagged a little, letting a long breath escape her. “It was a part of me, Kaydel,” she whispered eventually. “And he just ripped it apart.”

Kaydel blinked away tears, resting her forehead against Rey’s back. “But you’re still here, Rey. And we can rebuild, no matter what Ren thinks about destroying the past.”

Rey’s hand found hers and squeezed. “Then we shouldn’t delay, should we?” Off to her left, R2 beeped in agreement, startling both women before they looked at him and laugh. The old astromech had been keeping such a tactful silence that neither of them had noticed him.

Kaydel let go of Rey and said “So, yes to the vambraces?”

“Yep.” Kaydel ducked into Rey’s cambin and grabbed them, before they headed out into the open together. Jedha was desolate, but not too bad in terms of temperature, and Kaydel found the winds weren’t too strong down here either.

The chasm lay before them, dark and uninviting. Kaydel saw Rey square her shoulders as she eyed it. She did her best to match her, setting her jaw firmly. “We’d better get to work.”

They spent an hour scoping the crevasse, finding a point where the pitons would take and where neither the abseil in or the climb out would be too arduous for Rey, before setting the cable. Kuoma and Tannell offered to head down with her, but Rey was adamant about going alone.

“And I know you hate me saying that, all of you.” Rey pulled her helmet on, before hooking the cables onto her harness. “But alone is how I need to face whatever’s down there.”

Kaydel smiled sadly, shaking her head. “Jedi business.” She took Rey’s face in her hands. “Force be with you, Rey.”

Rey leaned in and kissed her, only breaking away after several seconds. Then she leaned back, letting the cable take her weight, and disappeared over the edge.

Gingerly, Kaydel approached and looked down into the pit, watching the light of Rey’s torch shrink further and further. Soon enough, she couldn’t see it at all.

How strange a burden this was, to fear so much for someone whose power was beyond anything she herself possessed. The fear that had clutched at her on Omunak made itself known again. For all Rey’s abilities, she was still mortal. That much was all too apparent now, and Kaydel dreaded the idea that she might never see her again.

Chewbacca put a heavy paw on her shoulder, murmuring gruffly. Kaydel looked into the wise old eyes, which had seen Luke Skywalker undergo so many of his trials, and felt just a little bit better. If Chewbacca, who’d witnessed so much more of the Jedi’s story than her, expected Rey to come back intact, maybe Kaydel could believe that too.

She just had to trust that Rey would find what she was looking for.


	37. Descent

“This is madness.” Finn couldn’t find any other words for a few moments, staring dumbfounded at the screens on the _Solo_ 's bridge. They broadcast images captured by Resistance agents. All of them showed carnage – First Order vessels smashing each other to bits, cities burning and ransacked. No matter that the enemy were doing it to one another, the scale and intensity of the violence was sickening. Especially when he thought of the ordinary people caught up in the crossfire.

He turned to Poe and the other commanders. “How many systems is this? Five?”

“Six.” Poe crossed his arms, face grave. “It was seven, but Ren’s forces took Vorsk an hour ago. He’s moving on to Nirem, and another fleet just began an attack on Vardos.”

Those were all names that Finn knew well. The Throne Worlds of the First Order, where they had first raised their banner and begun to rebuild. He'd grown up with propaganda which hailed them as beacons of perfect order and impregnable might. To see them laid low by the First Order's own armies was something he had never imagined.

Lando Calrissian’s rich rumble of a voice followed Poe's assessment. “The rest will follow soon. Ren’s momentum is still going strong.” He frowned as he scrutinised a scrolling log of figures – estimated casualty rates – and glanced up at the screens as another two Star Destroyers ruptured under sustained broadsides. “Everything in his path is burning.”

Farrun picked up the clear train of thought. “But it can’t last. Gorothad will be a bloody quagmire." The holo display switched to show the infamous Palace of Discipline. "Hux has dug himself right in, and they’ve been building those defences for three decades. Ren will have to crush everything around the Palace and then crack it open.”

“And that’s where we need to strike,” D’Acy said.

Poe nodded. “We’ll be going for the throat. Everything we have, targeting the Palace. Catch Ren, Hux, whichever of them’s still alive by then. This is the one chance we’ve got. Once either man declares victory, we’re looking at a united First Order again and the window closes.”

Finn found himself noting Poe’s changed appearance. He’d swapped his clothes for a uniform more befitting of the Resistance’s general, sharply tailored and with a waist-length command cape worn over one shoulder. The stubble had become a short beard. He carried himself differently too, more reserved in a way that couldn’t help but remind Finn of Leia and Han.

He also saw the look in Poe’s eyes. The people he was looking at might not see it, but Finn saw it. Poe would be aware of it. It was a kind of inverse defiance, daring them to shoot his plan down, almost wanting them to.

But they all gave it the nod. Naturally they had suggestions, refinements, but they accepted the broad thrust of it. It was sound – and as Poe had said, it was their only real shot. Lando mused that this wasn’t unlike Endor. The odds weren’t good, but the cost of failing to act impelled them to take the shot. C-3PO raised his head for a moment at the mention of odds, but seemed to think better of it.

There was plenty at the micro level to be dealt with – sub-formations, fighter and bomber deployments, feasible sites within the city – but the macro was set. The small-scale matters could and should wait until they’d assembled more of their forces. For now, Poe was willing to leave them to his commanders.

Which meant Finn, among others. So he went over to the renamed _Defiance_ , taking with him the remainder of the troops who’d accompanied them to Tion, and a number of freighter craft.

His new comrades were waiting for him in the hangar. Arron stood flanked by his officers, including Jannah and Jaicyn. The latter's bravery in fighting with Finn hadn't gone unnoticed, it seemed.

“I heard we were being put under your command,” Jannah greeted him.

“That’s the case. I trust you're cool with it?”

Next to her, Arron smiled. “No argument from any of us, Commander.”

“Glad to hear it. Not least because-” he pointed at the ceiling “-I need you steering this thing, Captain. But now…” He motioned, and a couple of hauler trucks, laden with crates, came trundling out of the transports he’d brought over with him. “Now, fighting on Gorothad’s gonna be tight and up-close, and we know you guys are trained to handle that. So, I’ve been given some toys to share.”

He pulled back the lid on one of the crates, and Jaicyn whistled. More than a few grins flashed among the assembled troops. Close-combat weapons lay in the crates: vibro-pikes, shock-batons and riot shields.

Jannah took a shield and spear, instantly dropping into a combat posture and miming a few quick stabs. “Ooh, I like these.”

What followed were several hours’ solid training and drill with the new weapons. Arron had been hard at work consolidating broken companies and squads. The same process was happening throughout the Resistance. Jessika Pava was now formally Black Leader, taking Poe’s old X-Wing while her A-Wing went to another pilot. The worst-hit squadrons had been recombined, bringing Black and Blue back to full strength.

So it was with the _Defiance_ ’s complement. Finn took a number of the toughest troopers for his vanguard units. He paired them with the troops from Poe’s division who were handiest in the melee, and they quickly got the measure of one another. Some of them, he reminded himself, had already fought side by side in Ren’s attack.

He put himself among them, putting his saber on low power mode and trying to get used to fighting in formation with it. Coordinated assault would be their only real chance against Ren’s elite troopers, he understood that now. So he pushed himself hard, finally feeling purpose again in his movements. Despite everything, the lockstep rhythms felt good.

_This is my company,_ he told himself. _These are my troops and I belong here, among them._

Poe appeared near the end of the fourth hour, prompting a shout of “General on deck!” and a salute from the division, but he was content to stand back and watch as Finn led the drill. He only approached when they were finished, and the troops took off for the showers and canteens.

He greeted Finn with a smile. "Good workout?"

Finn wiped his forehead of sweat with a towel. "Thorough."

“Sounds right." Poe glanced after the departing troops, then back to Finn. "You think they’ll be ready?”

"Yeah." Finn dipped his chin once. “They’re as ready as any of us, and more fired up than most. How goes the strategizing?”

“It's going nicely, as is the muster. Another fleet’s come in from Mon Cal, and we’ve gained a handful of ships from elsewhere, but the thrust of the plan is unchanged. We’ve just gotta get everything tight now. Every ship, every bit of gear, every person running at optimum.”

Finn could see where this was going. “You’re thinking about Rey again.” As if he hadn’t been doing so himself. It had been difficult to watch her go again, so soon after they’d nearly lost her. The absence of her and Chewie only added to his worries about Rose.

“Not too much.” Poe regarded him. “I trust your judgement, and I still believe in her. What’s the old saying, _trust the Force_?”

“Something like that,” Finn smiled. “Well, if we need to talk about anything else, come along to the canteen. So long as I’m not taking you away from your duties.” He made to follow the others.

“Finn.”

He turned back, and found Poe frowning, clearly weighing up a question. “What’s up, pal?”

It took a moment for Poe to answer. When he did the words were soft, but tension ran through every syllable. “It’s me that I’m unsure about. I can go over this in my head as many times as I like, rehearsing the arguments. I can hear people like Lando Calrissian tell me that my plan is sound, and I can look at the calculations…” His voice shook a little. “But I've gotta hear it from you, brother. Do you think Leia would trust me to do this?"

Finn nodded, putting his knuckles against Poe’s shoulder. “I'm damn sure.” He paused a moment, then smiled. “General.”

“Thanks. And yeah, the canteen sounds good.”

As they set off, Finn shot Poe another look. “So the beard’s staying?”

That got him a chuckle, and for a brief moment Poe smiled like his old self. “I feel like it doesn’t hurt for the General to look like a grown-up.”

Finn snorted. “Hard to argue, when you put it like that…”

There was a strange familiarity, even a comfort, to the abseil. Rey descended quickly into the crevasse, kicking off the rock at points to speed her progress down.

The rock walls closed in around her, slowing her progress as the daylight became a mere crack up above. As if as a counterpoint, she started to find scattered growths of crystal as she went. None of them Kyber – something told her that what she was looking for wouldn’t feel so inert – but they caught the light from her helmet and harness and cast it around her.

Finally her feet found the bottom. She pulled the harness off and pointed her torch upwards, quickly flicking it on and off to signal that she’d finished the descent. Kaydel’s answer flashed up above, and Rey felt a reassuring little surge in her chest.

The Force pressed harder against her perception down here. It was almost like being in Snoke’s presence again, except that this wasn’t power concentrated in an individual. This was something impersonal, almost like the power of a river or a sea, closer to Ach-To.

But within that vastness, something else, faint but coming nearer. She turned, drawing her blaster – and found Luke emerging from a tunnel.

She dropped her arms to her sides and bowed. “Master.”

Luke inclined his head. “Rey. You found your way here easily enough then?”

Rey nodded. “This… thing is rather hard to ignore. I can feel how close it is, but…” she frowned. “It’s not calling, like the cave on your island did. It just _is_.”

“Well, whether it calls or not, that’s where we’re going.” He beckoned her forward, toward the tunnel.

Jedha’s mantle must be rife with tunnels like this, she realised. There were stories about that of course – the Alliance heroes Erso and Andor were said to have infiltrated the Holy City that way, and Half-Mad Saw Guerrera had kept up the fight against the Imperial occupiers for years on end. The tunnels she saw were bare, however.

They’d covered a good couple of kilometres now, always heading down, before she felt able to speak again.

“Master Luke, about Ben…”

“Yes, Rey?” His expression was grave.

“I don’t know how we can save him now. What’s more, I don’t know if I want to.” Her guilt at the admission must have shown on her face.

Luke walked on in silence for a few moments, weighing up what he was about to say. “You can want to bring someone back, so badly that you’ll give anything to achieve it.” There was deep sorrow in his voice. “But if that person isn’t willing to atone, then you’ll find yourself beating at a stone wall. There are…” he sighed, “some awful choices, Rey, which must fall upon a Jedi’s shoulders. Yet they have to be made. Tell me, does the name Solo make one person worth more than another?”

“No.” It came so easily that it startled her, but she realised it was true. When she thought of all the lives lost to the First Order, the friends she feared for even now – especially now.

“It grieves me that it’s come to this, Rey. Don’t doubt that.” And for a moment, he looked older than he’d ever been in life. “All the more because I had a hand in all this, and now I’ve left the burden to you. Alas, Leia was right. He is too far gone now.”

“And he needs to be stopped. But… how can I face him again? Even with Finn backing me, he’s so far beyond our power…”

Luke turned fractionally towards her. “Have you forgotten our first lesson, Rey? What I told you about power? It’s not something we simply own. We channel the Force, let it flow through us, but for that we need to open ourselves to it and control that flow. For that, we need to know ourselves and take strength from that.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “You’ll find the way to defeat Kylo Ren by finding that inner strength again. By becoming something more than you have been, up ‘til now.”

The crystals were more abundant here, entire veins of ice-blue showing now and becoming more frequent as they pressed on. The feeling was now a constant pressure, making her head throb.

Luke noticed her reaction immediately. “What you feel here,” he said, “is a Vergence in the Force, where it seeps through to permeate the material world. Once this made the caverns a sacred place, where pilgrims would come to commune with the Force. But after the Atrocity, it became…”

“Shadowed,” Rey finished for him. Just as Kuoma had observed, a trauma of such magnitude left an echo in the Force itself.

Luke nodded gravely. “No longer does it welcome people easily into its embrace.”

The tunnel opened up ahead of them, and Rey came to a halt. “This is the threshold.”

She looked at Luke, somehow knowing what he was about to tell her. “I can’t pass beyond this point, Rey. This challenge is for you to face alone. But-” he nodded to her blaster “-you won’t need a weapon in there. What lies ahead is what you take with you.” Rey pulled the sidearm from its holster and offered it to him. Luke held up a translucent hand and made a face. “I’m not exactly able to hold it for you, Rey. Though I suppose I can keep an eye on it."


	38. Echoes and Judgement

The Chancellory of Nirem was broken. The fires had guttered out; there was nothing in the building left to burn.

Ren trudged through ash and snow. Niremon City lay on the coast in the planet’s frigid south, and the waves beat endlessly against the cratered sea wall of the Chancellory. He inhaled sullenly through his nostrils, the sound registering to the outside world as a crackle through his helmet’s grille, and kicked a Stormtrooper helm out of his way.

The savagery of the fighting was the equal of any Ren had seen. He’d fought against New Republic soldiers many times, but while they resisted tenaciously, they always did so with a view to evacuation. Not so either faction within the First Order. They fought to the bitter end – and it was always bitter, the programmed fanaticism of the Stormtrooper legions turned inward as each side sought to eradicate the other. Not a single one of the Chancellory’s defenders had survived.

“The way to Gorothad is open,” Yimur reported. He dragged his sword across the frozen ground, sweeping the weapon up to hold it in front of his helm. “General Engell reports that her forces have taken Vardos and executed the traitor Quinn.”

Ren returned his lightsaber to his belt and leaned on a rail, gazing out across the leaden sea. Behind him, the cityscape was pocked with smashed towers and dotted with chunks of defence cruisers which had fallen to earth here.

Snow was falling again, evaporating when it met a lit blade or settling on the corpses of Stormtroopers. Ren caught one with his boot and turned it over. This was one of Hux’s, marked by the symbol of the First Order which had been daubed on the armour in red. Ren’s troops, in contrast, were now all marked by the saber-sigil, burned onto their chestplates in black. Through the gaps in the clouds, the _Subjugator_ loomed, casting the city into deep shadow.

“All is in readiness,” Verix hissed. Even with a battle newly won, he was ravenous.

Well, that was no great matter. The fighting so far would be nothing to the slaughter which would unfold on Gorothad. And once they had the capital back, the rest of the Galaxy would follow. The Resistance were nothing more than an afterthought now, but he looked forward to dealing with those loose threads. Dameron, Tico, the traitor FN-2817. Those were deaths he would relish, almost as much as Hux’s.

But it was his rival who most occupied his thoughts now. _I’m close now, Armitage. Can you feel it? Can you feel your death looming over you now?_

“Colonel,” he growled. He didn’t look around. The officer was there, Ren knew he was there, the rest didn’t matter. “Complete the salvage operation, then pull the division out.”

“Do we leave an occupation force?”

Ren thought. “Just one division. We take the rest – everything we can throw at Gorothad. The people here will need to dig themselves out from under the rubble.” A grim smile tugged at his mouth. “That will occupy the civilians until we are done with Hux.”

Rey emerged into a cave dominated by crystal formations – huge, grand things that reminded her of the temples she had explored. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, reflecting and refracting the light she turned on them. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she moved to the centre of the cave.

She knew this place. Not by sight, but she remembered her dream on the Falcon and what she had seen during her coma, remembered the feel of that ghostly place. This was what she had felt that night.

Her skin prickled. Having followed the Vergence’s trace to its source, she found that it felt like standing under a thundercloud before a storm broke. There was something at the very edge of her hearing, growing until it resolved into something she could actually make out. _Like wind_ , she thought. Or the most distant echo of a scream – many screams.

The light that shone back from the crystals, she realised, was behaving strangely. It didn’t die when she turned her torches away. Hesitantly she killed her own lights, and shuddered. The crystals were illuminating themselves with a hard, cold glow.

Her hands felt horribly empty now. She tensed, like a prey animal caught in the open, sensing a predator but unable to pinpoint it. Something seemed to stir in the Force around her, scrutinising her. Rey slowed her breathing, waited.

The wind grew in volume, snatching at her clothes, and she thought she heard words in the sound. **_Whowhowhowhowho_ -**

With a start she realised that it wasn’t a trick of the senses. These were voices – a myriad of overlapping whispers, coalescing to speak as one. Spectral but forceful, it demanded: **_Who comes?_**

The cave suddenly felt profoundly cold and drained of colour. The glow built around her, figures forming from the light. Hundreds of them, uniform and anonymous, just as she had seen them in her dream. As one, they began to move, circling around her. They seemed to be cloaked, ether trailing behind them. Then, as in the dream, the figures broke apart and flowed about Rey.

The images came at her in the same jagged flicker as her visions of Ren. A shadow crawling across the sun. Green light which took its place, stabbing down. People gripped by a second of unparalleled terror, crying out against a doom they had no time to understand but which they comprehended instinctively and knew could not be averted. And then those same people annihilated, rendered down to atoms before the eye could even begin to register it. Earth and rock riven. Magma fountaining from the wound in the moon’s skin. The tens of thousands of years of accumulated history that had made the Holy City, obliterated like a burned book.

All of this violence, the sheer accumulated trauma of the Atrocity, spilling into the Force where it touched this world, leaving a livid scar.

Rey wheeled, trying to find a focal point in the maelstrom as she felt herself being watched. She was an intruder in the presence of a wounded behemoth which had only just begun to focus upon her. She shrank back, buffeted by the wind which now filled the cave.

Just as the voices had come together, so too the light coalesced, taking new shapes. Great columns of light and vapour reared up from the sea of vapour. They resolved into a dozen towering figures, each enthroned, ringing her.

She found herself gazing into the eyes of huge, smoke-formed faces. They were identical, shorn of any identifying features save for the proud, austere frown that each face wore. Instinctively, she knew what she was facing, whether it came from within her mind or outside. This was a gestalt entity, the collected legacy of the Jedi personified. They loomed above her, scrutinising and judging. _A council_ , she thought.

**_Who comes?_** they repeated, the sound coming from all sides and reverberating like thunder. Austere pride and disdain pervaded the manifold voice, the accumulated pride of millennia. And beneath it, like magma under a world’s crust, pain.

“Rey.” Her voice sounded tiny and insubstantial, under those glowing, scrutinising eyes. She tried to put some strength in it, give it some bite. “Apprentice to Luke Skywalker, the last living Jedi. I seek the legacy of the old Order-” That was all she managed.

**_Who are you to seek it?_** The voice thundered, magnified and echoed back at her by the walls of the cave. It rang in her ears and her mind, blotting out all thought. **_We owe our legacy to no one._** Wounded pride bled from every syllable.

“I know the hurt you feel,” Rey gasped. “I’ve seen what the tyrants, the servants of the Dark Side, do. And they will commit those atrocities a thousand times over, condemn the Galaxy to darkness, unless the Jedi stand against them.”

**_You are no inheritor of ours!_** It felt like a physical blow this time. Rey staggered backwards. **_You think to take the mantle of Jedi for yourself._ **

"Not for my-"

The figure opposite Rey lifted an accusing hand and she felt as though an AT-AT had placed its foot on her shoulders. Her legs gave way. It bore down on her, driving her to her knees with its ancient, prideful anger. Hurling at her all the words she had tried to ignore in her head. **_You are a girl from nowhere - foundling – scavenger – thief._** She was battered down by the deluge, face against the dirt.

Behind the thing’s fury, she felt the echo of the Atrocity. Emerald light blazed behind her eyes. Rupturing earth boomed in her ears. And she _felt_ the terrified soul-screams of the tens of thousands caught in the destruction. Despite herself, she whimpered.

Not for a moment did the spirits let up. **_Clawing after relics, the inheritance of the Jedi, walking the impure Grey Path – what are you to us but a pretender?_** Rey groaned, feeling herself crushed into the weight of the enraged spirits. All thought of crystals was gone from her mind now. All she could think of was the people relying on her, so far away. Finn, Poe, Rose… Kaydel… The voice assailed her again. _**Why do you presume to matter, to deserve the title of Jedi?**_

But there it was. Rey closed her eyes, shutting out the light and sound from her mind. She wasn’t about to fail again, not when the people she loved needed her. She pressed her hand against the rock and found purchase. She dragged in a breath and, ignoring the sound and fury that had engulfed her, forced herself to speak. “Because… I fight for more than just a legacy.”

She felt it then, a hesitance in the spectres. It was slight, but it was there. She pressed on. “Because I’ve been taught that being a Jedi is about who you fight for and why, not the power you possess or who taught you.”

She found the light inside herself again, and it kindled to a blaze. The cacophony still broke against her, but its hold over her was weakened. Pushing against the rocky floor, Rey forced herself to rise. These were only her own fears, thrown back at her, and she denied them their hold on her.

She stood, turning slowly, staring into the eyes of the apparitions. “Because I’ve learned both your virtues and your mistakes. And now, when people need hope, I’m ready to fight on for freedom in the Galaxy. Whether you approve or not.”

**_And what of the darkness you carry in your heart?_** The tempest beat against her with renewed strength. Rey skidded backwards, bracing herself against it. **_The rage that burns in you?_**

She felt something behind her and turned her head. Beyond the ring of figures there was a shadow in the guise of a woman. It wore Rey’s shape, lithe and yet predatory, the malignant potential of the Dark Side radiating from it. She recognised it instinctively: the side of her that told her to take her grief, fear and anger and lash out at the Galaxy which had left her abandoned, forsaken by her own parents.

The shade advanced, but she forced herself to stand her ground and face it. “I know that darkness is in me,” she said. It was close enough to touch, and she reached out, putting her hand to its cheek. “I’ve fought it, but I also know its uses. The Jedi can’t just be one side of the coin, just as I can’t cut that part of me out. But I can master it.” She reached out with her own will, and the shade dissipated at her command.

The phantom council didn’t relent, not yet. **_And how is it your right to decide what the Jedi can and can’t be, child? Who chose you, Rey No-One?_**

But this time she was ready, staring right into the luminous eyes. “No one did. But do you see anyone else stood here, ready to take up your mantle?” She stood tall, and the ghostly face reared up before her, no longer so certain and furious. “And I’m not Rey No-One, not any longer. I’m Rey of Jakku, Rey of the Resistance, _Rey of the Jedi!_ ”

The maelstrom around her quietened at that. Now the looks on the faces of the ghostly council were calmer, appraising. Rey stood her ground, waiting for its final judgement.

**_So you are_ ,** came the hushed rumble at last. And the winds swept out to the far ends of the chamber, dispelling the ghostly figures. Rey stumbled briefly, no longer having to brace against the tempest.

The blaze of light died away, leaving the cavern as it had been before. Except for a faint amber glow at its far end. Rey moved toward it, slowly and gingerly at first but with growing confidence and a sudden eagerness. Reaching the wall, she found that it lay behind a sheet of crystal.

Putting a hand to the surface, she felt for cracks and faults before sending a pulse of energy through the thin layer of crystal – and it fell away into dust.

Behind it lay two gems, identical in every way as far as she could tell. Rey scooped them up and held them to her chest, feeling the potential that radiated from them. She felt a smile break out across her face, and almost laughed with elation. Next she took a pouch from her belt and deposited the crystals into it, before running out to find Luke.

“Yellow crystals,” Luke mused as he and Rey walked back.

“What do they signify?” Rey asked. She’d come across explanations of what a crystal’s shade said about the Jedi who found it – blue for the guardians, green for the spiritualists, purple for the warriors. But yellow was a mystery to her.

Luke gazed upon the crystals in her hand and smiled. “They are the mark of a Jedi Sentinel. A warrior-scholar, a seeker of balance – which, if I’m any judge, is what the Galaxy needs just now. And speaking of which,” he said as the crevasse opened up above their heads again. “I’d better not keep you from your friends any longer. Just one thing.”

Rey looked at him, expectantly.

“Kaydel,” Luke said.

She frowned quizzically at that, feeling just a little defensive. “What about her, Master?”

Luke smiled. “She fits you.”

She tried to gauge that expression. “So you’re not worried about my going against the Code?”

“What, that old rule?” He threw back his head and laughed. “Do you think that I let it stop me when I was a young, hotshot pilot?” He gathered himself, a warm grin on his face. “Rey, if there’s one thing the old Jedi forgot how to do and that the new ought to remember, it’s to live a little. Besides, you might need a steadying hand now and again.”

She nodded. They were almost at the rockface now, and she returned the crystals to their pouch. Then she cupped her hands to her mouth. “Kaydel! Chewie!”

Their answering shouts rang out above, and a moment later the cable came slithering down. Rey hopped back out of the way as it hit the bottom. Then she hooked her harness onto it and turned back to Luke.

Awkwardly, she bowed, showing him the kind of respect she wished she’d managed when he was alive. “Master Skywalker, I can’t thank you enough.”

To her surprise, he returned the bow. “I owed you, kid. Now get out there and free this Galaxy.” He’d begun to fade out of sight, but his last words followed her up the rock wall. “And remember, the Force will always be with you.”


	39. Come the Storm

The clouds over Gorothad were on the verge of bursting, charcoal black and tumescent with the impending storm. It was the middle of the day, but precious little light reached through the dome of the Palace. Almost all the illumination in the strategium came from the strategic holos in front of Hux.

The fleet had been reinforced with the new squadron from Kovant. _Thank you very much, Brun. We’ll be sure to reimburse the board in due time. Just a pity you didn’t pick the right side. If you had, then you might’ve got to pocket the fee yourself_.

Then there were the escapees from the rest of the Throne Worlds, those which had survived Kylo Ren’s murderous attentions. They were deployed further out – partly for morale’s sake, partly to prevent any material weakness from enfeebling the main body of the fleet – in ad-hoc formations and often heavily scarred by the battles they had escaped.

Many more ships had failed to make it. Necessary sacrifices, Hux told himself. Ren had had to spend lives and resources at every turn. This would be the point where they broke his forces and finally dragged the regicide off his throne once and for all.

Stolan approached. "Every fortress on the planet reports full readiness, sir." Hundreds of thousands of Stormtroopers and Enforcers, standing to attention across the world.

Fleetingly, Hux wondered what Gorothad's civilians must make of all this. He imagined them cowering in their homes; any bunkers had of course been set aside for First Order personnel. They knew that this clash of arms was above them. Theirs was to try not to die, and abase themselves before the victor when he emerged triumphant.

"As it should be," he replied as much to himself as the major, looking over the strategium. In a way, he savoured this. The struggle for the soul of the First Order would be decided not by subterfuge, but in a grand clash of arms. By his intellect and the strength and discipline of his armies, Armitage Hux would win mastery of the Galaxy.

If any of the personnel around him felt nervous, they didn't dare show it. The Stormtroopers - all of them Hux's new Praetorians - stood rigidly to attention. The comms staff busied themselves with passing on directives from the commanders around them. This room was the nerve centre for the entire defence operation. Through this system, Hux saw and controlled all. For instance, he was fully aware of someone approaching the chamber.

The doors opened to admit Torqueda. The crimson-armoured troopers likewise parted to let him through, stepping back into place with mechanical precision. Hux scrutinised him, and noticed that the High Inquisitor looked to be under strain.

“Parnadee is dead,” Torqueda bluntly told him. “Ren’s forces have taken Nirem and Vardos. They’re coming for us.”

Hux felt a prickle of irritation. He knew this already, and he disliked how rattled Torqueda seemed. He looked at Stolan and the other officers, and was glad to see that the emotions in their faces mirrored his. “We anticipated this.” Hux gestured to the holo. “Ren will dash his armies to pieces on our walls. When the latecomers arrive, they’ll see that and fall upon him to prove their loyalty.”

“It’s not just Ren we have to concern ourselves with.” Torqueda was no less animated. Heads were beginning to turn furtively at consoles. “The Resistance are on the move in the Outer and the Mid Rim, and we have no assets to oppose them with.”

Stolan sneered. “They are an irrelevance. We’ve seen the reports – Organa is dead and the boy Dameron is in command. Nothing has changed, we proceed as planned. Crush anything that defies us.” The Butcher of Mygeeto was rapidly losing patience.

Still, Torqueda didn’t let it go. “We have exposed ourselves here, Hux.” The lack of his honorific caught Hux’s attention immediately. He glared at Torqueda, waiting for the moment when he realised the error. It didn’t come. “The whole Galaxy sees how divided we are – we are vulnerable in this state. The Jedi is alive, the Resistance is gathering its forces and our war has left the door open to them.”

“The Resistance,” Hux rasped, “are nothing. They have only ever been a rabble, and once we have defeated the regicide they will be eradicated-”

All these long years, Hux hadn’t ever seen Torqueda snap before. When it happened, it was quite explosive. “How many times have we told ourselves that lie? And do you really think that if the whole Galaxy sees us looking weak, they won’t take advantage?”

Leaving aside the absurdity of the beaten rabble of the Galaxy uniting, just for the moment, Hux took a deep breath. “High Inquisitor, what are you proposing?”

“We can’t be caught fighting among ourselves when the Resistance is angling to exploit the situation. Internal struggles must be put on hold.”

This was so patently absurd that for a moment, Hux didn’t know how to respond. “There can be no making peace with Ren. This is our only chance.”

“This is about more than our own power!” Torqueda barked. The Stormtroopers tensed. “The survival of the First Order is at stake. That matters infinitely more than who occupies the throne.” He strode to the door. “And if we have to lay down our lives for the First Order to endure, then so be it!”

He didn’t even make it across the threshold. Stolan's shots took him in the back, dropping him to the floor. _Such a pitiful end for a glittering career_ , Hux thought.

Torqueda groaned and rolled over to glare up at Hux. He was dying, there was no mistaking that, but he still found the strength to hiss a little more invective. “You fool. You’ll… destroy it all.”

Hux levelled his own pistol. “I won’t let Ren win this, whatever that takes.” Torqueda managed one last revolted look before Hux shot him in the heart.

Some part of Hux’s mind ventured that maybe the High Inquisitor had had a point. He dismissed the notion, and motioned to the troops. “Detail a squad to dispose of the corpse.”

“Sir,” Stolan interjected. “Proximity alerts from the fleet.”

“So it begins,” Hux murmured. Lightning splintered the clouds high above them, drawing eyes upwards. A boom of thunder rolled across the sky, and rain began to beat against the dome. Melodramatic, but appropriate.

The scale of the strategic holos broadened to a to accommodate the dozens of ships now jumping into the system. The battlespace was a hundred kilometres wide. Destroyers, Dreadnoughts – and the _Subjugator_ itself, its dagger-prow unmistakable.

All those ships hung somewhere in space, beyond the storm now breaking across the city. Hundreds of thousands of troops, ready to fight and die by his command. This, the battle to decide once and for all who ruled the Galaxy.

Stolan was already prowling around the console banks, directing the defenders' first moves. Hux raised his face to the sky, staring coldly up at the rain-spattered glass and the leaden clouds. “Come, Ren. Let’s finish this.”

Far from First Order territory, Mandalore's night was still and quiet. In a circular chamber of coarse stone and wrought-iron, the leaders of the Mandalorian Clans gathered to hear the Resistance’s entreaties.

Rose and her fellows waited nervously as the Resistance Ambassador made his case. Their mission to round up support had had some modest success so far; Ciael Nelon of the Uugteen had pledged Akiva's fleet, Ortda Elort had brought the famed Skua Company to their banner and they'd collected several individual vessels along the way. But now they'd come to the legendary warriors of Mandalore. Which was to say that now, they were in for a rather sterner challenge.

She warily eyed the various chieftains, each surrounded by a retinue of their best fighters. To judge by the livery, there must be at least a dozen Clans in attendance.

The Mandalorian warrior culture, scattered during the aftermath of the Clone Wars, had come back together over the decades since the Empire’s fall, but had always held themselves apart from the Republic and the Resistance. The clan-leaders had done the Resistance delegation the courtesy of gathering to hear them out, but their silence hadn’t been encouraging. Not least as they all retained their distinctive helmets, making them difficult to read.

Now they were starting to talk back and argue among themselves. So far, that was a definite turn for the worse.

A faction in copper and cobalt armour was the most vocally opposed. “So in the name of survival,” one of them – a woman by her voice – asked, “you’d have us dash ourselves on the walls of the First Order? Break from the Way that kept us alive all this time?”

"And what would you us do instead?" A male Mandalorian in bright green armour sprang from his seat, agitation plain in his rigid posture. “Do we wait for Kylo Ren to come against us, alone out here?” He somehow managed to glare at his comrades through his visor. "Have we forgotten about what Maul and Palpatine did to us? Do we sit back now and leave ourselves to the same abuses?

His counterpart took a step closer and gestured at the warriors of her clan, all clad in the same cobalt armour. “We’ve no love for the Empire and its descendants, but-” she put her fists next to her temples, index fingers pointing up “-we know better than to lock horns with a Reek!” A murmur of agreement echoed through the chamber, followed by an angry rumble of dispute. Voices rose.

This was perilous, Rose knew. If the Resistance were turned away here, it would hurt their efforts elsewhere and further imperil Finn and the rest.

The ambassador renewed his efforts. “If the First Order is allowed to recover, your traditions will not save you. All you will do is trade a risk for the certainty of destruction! The slow strangling of your culture, the last Mandalorian dead in some alley on a forgotten world!” His words went largely unheeded amid the swell of angry voices.

He might have carried on, fighting in vain against the increasing tumult, but Rose found her feet carrying her forward. 

"Listen to yourselves!" she yelled. Silence fell, leaving her voice to echo from the walls. The Mandalorians and Resistance troops all turned to stare at Rose. Her own vehemence surprised her. She was angry at these people, at these warriors who stood and postured while others suffered for their inaction. "All you've talked about here is your own survival, your strength. What about the rest of the Galaxy? They need people like you to stand up and fight. If you act, they can be saved. The people of this Galaxy need you - or is the courage of Mandalore all talk?"

The shouting erupted again, but a dry voice emanated from the back of the chamber and cut through the noise. "We said we would hear them out." The Mandalorians fell silent, swivelling to see who had interrupted. Rose leaned sideways, trying to catch a glimpse.

A warrior in reddened armour, who hadn't yet spoken or even stirred so far, came to his feet. It was just a slight movement, but it drew every eye to him. The centre of gravity in the room seemed to alter, so effortlessly did this man command attention.

The cloak which had mantled him slipped back, revealing a stylised vibro-axe at his help. The bearer’s hands did not move toward the weapon, however, instead rising to remove his helmet. The assembled Mandalorians drew back as one when it came free, and a heavily tanned, lined face was revealed.

The man met the gazes of his fellows, waiting to see if any challenge would meet him. None came. His beard was iron-grey, clipped short and neat, but his eyes were bright beneath a heavy brow. Quiet command radiated from him. There was no bombast, no need to assert any credentials.

He turned to the ambassador. “We promised to listen, but I think _you_ have said your piece.”

The ambassador took it well, for what it was worth. Rose and the others waited, all of them tense.

The old warrior addressed the whole delegation, his lessers parting before him. “I am a Mandalorian, and a Mandalorian is a warrior. I’ll hear a diplomat out, but I will not be swayed by one. Did the Resistance send a soldier with their delegation? Anyone who’s actually had the nerve to face the First Order? If you have, then let’s hear their words. Those, I will heed.” His eyes alighted on Rose. “What about you? You look like you’ve something more to say.”

Rose forced herself to keep staring back, despite the eyes of every Mandalorian which were now turned upon her. Her hand found and closed around her crescent medallion. _Paige would want you to do this, and she’d tell you that you can pull it off. Finn, Poe and all the rest believe it too_.

“Yes.” She took a step forward. “Yes I have.”


	40. The Weapon of a Jedi

The sun hung low in the evening sky, spilling golden light over the Agnoan sea. Floating a little way off the sand, basking in the warm glow, Rey meditated.

"Breathe. Just... breathe..."

She'd come away from the base, which bustled just as much as the one on Yavin IV. Even more, perhaps - Poe had set Agnoa as the muster point, and now the Resistance fleet was gathering on and above the planet. Finn, Poe and Rose were yet to arrive, still rounding up more ships and troops to built a force which could attack the heart of First Order territory. It was only going to get busier, and already it was hard to hear anything over the rumble of landers moving between the surface and the fleet.

So Rey had made for the beach. The salt in the air and the rhythm of the ocean drowned out the noise from the base and soothed her, reminding her of D’Qar. Breathing deeply and slowly she centred herself, letting the sound of the waves fill her ears, riding out the unrest in her heart.

Slowly, she centred herself. Then she reached out for the components which lay on a cloth beside her, and which would form her lighsaber.

Earlier, in her cabin, she had rummaged around for tools, finding a hand-welder, plasma cutter and goggles in the lower draws. Together with some power cells and other necessary parts, she’d gathered everything up in a tray. Then she went back to the upper drawer, where the broken Skywalker saber lay.

For a good long while she had regarded it, feeling the tumult which threatened to reawaken and unbalance her again. _Enough_. She picked the two halves out of the draw and left the cabin.

In the hold, she had hunkered down on and got to work. Chewbacca and R2-D2, as she'd known they would, had offered to help out with the assembly. But this was something Rey wanted – needed, really – to do for herself. Not to mention the risk that if she got the later parts of the process wrong, there could very easily be an explosion. This was work so delicate that you needed a connection to the Force in order to avoid disaster.

Once she’d committed to it, stripping the internals out of the saber was just a matter of precision and care. To disassemble what was left of her staff, however, was harder, and she’d felt a sharp pang as she undid the first screw. It had been an extension of herself for a decade, growing and evolving with her as she added and replaced parts. An unfailing tool, the means by which she’d protected herself and, when she felt able, stood up for others.

And yet there was no alternative. The staff was broken. She couldn’t put it back together as it had been, any more than she could restore herself to the scavenger girl on Jakku. No, this was the way forward. _Take the pieces of the past and build something new from them._

The process had taken time. It was delicate work, stripping out the wiring from the shock-generator and assembling it into a new pattern, which was then threaded through the haft she was piecing back together. Her weapon would have a longer hilt than most, to accommodate the twin crystals and power cells. A twin-bladed saberstaff. Despite her nerves, she smiled at the very idea.

She’d taken the parts to the base’s armoury after that, where Vitas Gamakun, the old Hamadryas forge-master, had immediately known what she was after. “Are we putting the phrik to use, Captain?” he asked, referring to a small store of the precious metal they had kept for her. Then he laughed and rubbed his hands together. “A fine day, to forge the hilt of a lightsaber. Finer than any other weapon I have crafted.”

Rey had watched quietly as the armourer went about his work. New components were forged, and old ones were skinned in the dark but lustrous metal. Gamakun had styled the new additions after her staff, albeit with a more elegant touch. “After all,” he said. “It must look worthy of a Jedi.”

Now the time had come for Rey to assemble the weapon, and she couldn’t do that inside the bustling outpost. It was far too loud there now, for sure delicate work. Nor could she do it aboard the Falcon. That had been clear from reading the old texts. This process included the crucial step, the point where she integrated the Kyber crystals into the saber. Once that was done, the real moment of truth would come. Either the weapon would ignite properly, or the energies inside would erupt. Such an outcome would likely kill her.

_Which would be bad enough without blowing the Falcon up too._ Somehow, that thought came to her in Han’s gruff voice, and she let out a snort of amusement. No arguing with that logic.

Hence she'd set off for the sea, bringing the pieces down to the sand where she would carry out this last step. Kaydel, Chewie and the Scrappers had wanted to come too, but Rey had secured promises that they would watch from a safe distance. Now, with the sun finally dipping below the horizon, Rey knew it was time.

She knelt and closed her eyes. With the Force, she reached out, letting her mind’s touch encompass the components. _See how they will connect. See not the pieces, but the entire saber._ The components – the saber-to-be, she corrected herself - rose into the air, falling into alignment. The crystals settled in their sockets, power cells and circuity met and potential thrummed through the weapon. Just as the texts had said, it didn’t feel like something she was constructing, but rather a single entity assuming its ordained shape.

Finally she felt for any flaws which escaped her sight, letting her consciousness roam within the mechanisms and finally the crystals themselves, attuning them and aligning them. One slip now, and all this would have been for nothing.

Letting the Force flow through her, she found the alignment and in spite of her nerves, she smiled and extended her hands, palms up.

The saber responded to her call, floating gently into her grasp. Gingerly, she felt for the two power studs, took a deep breath, and pressed them.

Amber light bloomed through her eyelids. After a few moments she dared to look, and her heart swelled as she beheld the finished weapon. Two yellow blades lit the beach around her.

She got to her feet, testing the weight and feel, finding that this felt _right_ in a way that not even the Skywalker saber had before.

For a moment, she held still. But the new saber – _her saber_ – demanded to be swung and spun, to cut the air with its hum and whir. So she gave it an experimental twirl. And another. And then the kind of flurry she used to practice with her staff.

As she went, she found herself moving more quickly, adding flourishes. Before she knew it she was spinning, dancing as her laughter echoed across the beach. Moving at the centre of a whirl of yellow light, kicking up sand.

She kept it up until the sun began to sink into the ocean. Finally she spun to a halt, panting, and cheers echoed down to her. Turning to face the cliff, she saw her friends and others – many others, lining the horizon.

Not even a week ago, a moment like that would have been too much for Rey. Now, however, she brandished the saber triumphantly, grinning up at them all. _I’ve done it. I feel the Force more strongly than I ever have before. Master Luke, you were right._

A small group of her friends were still waiting when she traipsed back up the track to the fields. Finn was among them, already armoured. He’d arrived hours earlier, it transpired, and come looking for Rey. Behind him were Jannah and a squad of her troopers, plus some of the troops who’d accompanied them into the Tion Sector.

To judge from Jannah’s squad, the _Defiance_ ’s crew had all defaced their armour just as Finn had his. Some of them had gained new helmets, while others had modified their old ones to make them open-faced. And when they turned to greet the newcomers, Rey saw they’d painted the Resistance’s symbol on the bare metal of their breastplates and shields.

They exchanged salutes before Rey walked over and hugged Finn. When they broke apart, Finn noticed her looking at the newly altered armour. He smiled, tapping his knuckles against his chest. “Not subtle I know, but Jannah and Jaicyn insisted. You’re looking at Phoenix Company.”

“So you’ve gone all-in with on-the-nose,” Kaydel observed.

Jannah laughed. “It’s not time for subtlety anymore. We’re attacking the First Order’s capital world, right?”

Rey joined in that laugh as Kaydel shrugged and nodded. “I knew I liked you lot. And it’s a strong look,” she added. Jannah inclined her head gratefully.

Kaydel, seized on the moment of quiet. “So,” she smiled at Rey. “You’re ready?”

Rey nodded vigorously, spinning the saber hilt in her hand. “Very.”

“We’ve got our Jedi,” Finn said. “One whole Jedi, saber and all.”

Rey looked at her friend, taking in the lightsaber which sat on his own belt. In that moment, she had a thought. “I make that two Jedi actually, Finn. And if we’re heading into a final battle tomorrow, we might as well make it official.”

Finn stared at her in confusion for a moment. Then a look of realisation came over in his face, and he swallowed before drawing himself up. “I’d be honoured… Master. How do we do this?”

“I’ll need you to kneel.” Her friend nodded and sank smoothly to one knee, bowing his head. Instinctively, the others drew back, standing as rigidly as they would on parade.

Rey smiled, before she raised her eyes to the stars. She spoke to the night, spoke to the Force itself, reciting the ancient words. “There is no Jedi Council to invoke, but we are Jedi by training and deed. The Force speaks through us, and through our actions it proclaims itself.”

She ignited a single blade of her saber and stepped towards Finn, lowering it to just above his right shoulder. “By my right as the last of the Order, and by the will of the Force…” She switched to his other shoulder. “I dub thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic.” She drew back the saber and extended her free hand, feeling a warm swell of pride and elation in her heart. “Rise, Finn. Rise as a Jedi Knight.”


	41. Lighting the Fire

Above Gorothad there was no exchange of terms or threats, no promise of defiance to the last breath or dire retribution. No need for any of that. Ren’s fleet began to move the second all his ships were out of hyperspace, advancing despite the salvos that the defenders hurled at them and sacrificing ships to soak up the onslaught. They didn’t fire back yet, devoting all their power to the forward shields.

Thundering into range, the fleet turned to present broadsides and finally they returned fire. A great wave of plasma and torpedoes swept across the gulf, breaking across the defenders’ shields in a cascade of light. Squadrons of TIE Fighters and Bombers followed, screaming in as their counterparts moved to intercept. Their vicious dance began, spiralling around the defending Star Destroyers and stations as the exchange of cannon fire ripped through space.

Kylo Ren stalked the _Subjugator_ ’s bridge, snarling orders and exhorting his forces to new heights of slaughter, just as Hux did in the Palace’s strategium. Two men, bent upon one another’s death and each willing to tear through whatever stood between them.

The result was a battle which eclipsed almost any in living memory for its sheer violence. Only the Battle of Coruscant, of fifty years before, rivalled the carnage which unfolded in orbit.

The greatest behemoths, the _Unremitting_ and the _Subjugator_ , both consigned vessels to destruction with every broadside, and thousands of crew with them. Squadrons were consumed by volleys, Shields collapsed. Armour melted under dousings of plasma and split when laser beams found their targets. Torpedoes burrowed into metal plates and detonated, leaving gaping wounds that bled air and molten metal.

A Dreadnought’s autocannons overwhelmed a defence station’s shields and blew it apart, the explosion consuming two Maxima-class heavy cruisers. Minutes later, the Dreadnought perished under the guns of the _Unremitting_ and two more stations, which lanced it through again and again with laser beams. Fire wept from the many gashes in its hull, until the burned-out shell was left to drift with the dozens of other ruined ships, tumbling directionless through space.

Then the _Subjugator_ came for its opposite number, flanked by its lesser and all their guns blazing away at the _Unremitting_. The defending flagship’s crew replied with all the firepower they could muster, but nothing in Gorothad’s orbit was a match for the _Subjugator_.

Ren stabbed a finger toward the enemy, howling the command to fire. In silence, the crew complied.

The mighty autocannons spoke, and the _Unremitting_ ’s shields were shredded like paper. Its decametre-thick armour kept it from coming apart entirely, but that only served to prolong its agony. The _Subjugator_ ’s escorts moved in, carving strips of plating away from the metal bones. Floors and ceilings collapsed within, chambers were ripped open and scoured by the vacuum. Finally the _Subjugator_ fired again into the exposed heart of its counterpart and the _Unremitting_ disintegrated, consumed by its own reactor fires.

Ren watched the ship’s death throes, his teeth bared. Far below, Hux stared grimly at the holos. The space battle was decided, at least until the latecoming fleets arrived. Just what they would do when they did arrive, both warlords knew, would depend on the next phase of the conflict. For now came the battle on the surface.

Almost the entire Resistance fleet hung above Agnoa as the transports climbed into the sky. It was the largest flotilla Rey had ever seen, though she had to remind herself that the enemy would have considerably more. Even so, this was awe-inspiring.

From the Falcon’s cockpit, she counted thirty-five ships. They were impressively varied – she recognised Mon Calamari, Sullustan and Corellian designs, vessels from Comenor and Sluis Van, all united under the Resistance’s banner. Three more battleships lay close to the _Solo_.

One was a craggy Corellian giant named the _Aldera_ , all slabbed armour plating and thickets of cannons. The other had the bulbous look of a Mon Calamari ship – that must be the _Ackbar_. The third new addition was immediately recognisable – it had the outline of a Star Destroyer, but on closer inspection it had a certain elegance that marked it apart from First Order designs. This was the _Emancipator_ , flagship of Lando Calrissian.

But the Falcon made for the _Solo_ , at the heart of the formation. It took its place among the fighters and a few larger, more famous craft. On one side sat the _Ghost_ , famed even in the days of the Rebel Alliance, and on the other the _Stellar Hawk_ , a rugged explorer vessel.

Upon disembarking, Rey scanned the busy hangar. She frowned. “I didn’t see Maz’s ship out there. Is Rose not back yet?”

Finn looked worried. “She’s out there somewhere, but we got a message a day ago to say she and Maz won’t make the rendezvous. They’ll join us at Gorothad with anyone they manage to rally.” He left unsaid the words _if they make it there._

Rey knew he was thinking them though, and took hold of his arm. “They’ll make it, Finn.”

He nodded, dipping his chin again to acknowledge Kaydel’s encouraging smile. “Thanks, guys. In the meantime, let’s go find our General.”

Rey had slung a belt over her armour, across one shoulder. Her saber hooked onto it, its weight reminding her of the staff just enough to feel comforting. Under the Resistance green of the armour, her robes were a mix of black, white and grey.

“You’re walking like you used to,” Finn observed as they made their way to the bridge. “Good to have you back, Rey.”

She punched him lightly on the arm. “You’re going soft, friend.”

“Just don’t tell the troops. And remember,” he added with a gentle prod of his elbow before tapping the stripes on his arm, “ _Captain_. I outrank you now. Wouldn’t do to assault a senior officer.”

They both managed to keep a straight face for about five seconds.

BB-8 and BA-9 met them just outside the bridge, babbling excitedly. When they’d had enough attention for the moment, the two little astromechs ran in wheels around R2-D2, the older droid whistling tolerantly as they wheedled and chirped at him. Finally, Finn whistled, and led the way onto the bridge.

They were still waiting on people, but already the space thronged with personnel. Pilots, soldiers, technicians. Heads turned when the group entered, and more followed. Eyes lingered on Finn and Rey’s lightsabers, and the whisper ran through the space. _The Jedi lived_.

A handful of veterans approached them. Among them was Commander Hera Syndulla of the famed Ghost Squadron, and her son and copilot Jacen. “Wait,” Jaicyn asked when they moved away. “Is that where you got the name from?”

Finn smiled. “Maybe.”

The other former Stormtrooper cocked his head, watching the Rebel legends. “Well, I’m flattered.”

But aside from those few familiar faces, they kept their distance, and Rey had a chance to study the groups around them. The pilots were nearest, clustered around their captains. Then there were the ground units in their varied liveries. Not for the first time, Rey thought it was just as well that their enemy were so uniform. Sometimes it was the only thing that let the Resistance’s soldiers reliably recognise one another.

The notorious and beloved Shriv Suurgav had arrived, his Dross Squadron easily recognisable as the scruffiest troops on the ship. He waved cheerily as they passed; in all his years of fighting for the Rebellion and Resistance, Shriv had been known to salute all of three superiors. Now four, it seemed, as he directed one to the new general.

Poe stood on a dais at the centre with D’Acy and Farrun, the three of them orchestrating the fleet as it moved into formation. He saluted on seeing Rey, and she returned it with a smile.

Finn motioned for Rey and the others to hold back – no interrupting the general. So they joined Snap, Jess and the other pilots and waited, quietly watching the bridge fill up around them and the ships outside move into place. A great arrowhead formation came together on the holo display. The _Defiance_ took its place at the very tip, and Rey saw the satisfied look on Finn’s face at that.

“While Poe’s busy,” Finn said, “I’ll walk you through our role in the attack.”

Rey regarded him curiously, following him to an unused console. “So you’ve had a hand in the planning? I wondered.”

“More than just a hand,” he grinned, bringing up a holomap of the First Order citadel and its surroundings. This part of the operation is all me.” He tapped his temple.

“Then walk us through it, Commander,” prodded Kaydel.

Finn’s smile broadened, and he hit another key on the console. Several patches on the display glowed blue. “These are projected landing sites close to the Palace of Submission. They’re likely to be defended, but we have the firepower to clear them.”

“And anything else would mean we have to cover a lot more ground,” Jannah put in.

“How many soldiers will we have?” Rey asked. “A thousand?”

“Half that again, all told. Us and the _Defiance_ ’s complement, plus our companies from the Tion mission. All told we’ll have ten thousand moving on the Palace, against roughly as many Stormtroopers by our projections.”

Kaydel made a face. “That could vary a lot depending on how Kylo’s fight against Hux goes. And Kylo is the objective?”

“Him and the Palace both. If at all possible, I’ll engage him first. If he doesn’t know we’ve still got you, Rey, best we keep it that way.”

Rey nodded. “Element of surprise. Plus the look on his face should be priceless.” She reached for the console and zoomed in on the plaza. “Once he knows we’re coming, he won’t stay put. He might even break off the fight with Hux to come face us.”

“That’s our assumption too,” Jannah put in.

Finn nodded. “I suppose it’s too much to hope for that they’d just kill each other. Then again,” he added, “I think I’d feel cheated if it went that way. Anyway, the plan. Sound good?”

Rey put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m on board with it, Commander.” Finn beamed.

“I think…” Kaydel said, watching the last few squadrons assume their positions, “that’s us ready to go. Pending rhetoric.”

Finn nodded toward the entrance, seeing Ace Squadron file in with Kazuda Xiono and hasten over to them. “And the last few attendees.”

Admiral Calrissian sauntered onto the bridge at the head of the last few commanders. His uniform was as immaculate as ever, a deep green cape thrown over one shoulder. He greeted them warmly, and made briskly for the command dais, at whose foot Poe stood.

C-3PO too approached Poe. Resistance techs were wiring other protocol droids up to communication units. A team of engineers stood ready to do the same for Threepio, but the old golden droid clearly had something to say to Poe. “It would be the highest honour to translate and convey your words…” he gave an awkward salute. “ _General_ Dameron.”

There was a time, Rey thought, when Poe wouldn’t have cared for that sentiment. But now he inclined his head and placed a hand on the venerable droid’s shoulder. “Thank you, Threepio.” Then he took his place at the centre of the room.

Rey felt a gentle blush of pride, seeing her friend ascend the dais. For Finn, Kaydel and Poe’s old pilot crews, it must be even more heartening. Sure enough, when she risked a look, they were all beaming. Their expressions turned sombre, however, as the bridge went quiet.

Poe cleared his throat, visibly steeling himself, and began to speak. “People of the Galaxy. This is General Poe Dameron of the Resistance. I’m sure you’ve seen the holo-feeds and you know that right now, the First Order is fighting itself. Gorothad burns in the fires of civil war. Kylo Ren and Hux are scrapping over who gets to sit on the throne and rule over all of us. Because they have _written us off_. Not just the Resistance, but everyone in the Galaxy who isn’t them.

“These are the people who would deny us all a destiny of our own choosing. Prefer one of our would-be Supreme Leaders, or neither?” he asked. “Not your call to make, they say. And they tell us that their way of doing things will guarantee order, that tyranny is the only way for the Galaxy to know peace?” He gestured to the holo-feeds of First Order ships fighting in orbit and worlds burning. “Well look at them now! Smashing their own cities down to lord it over the debris, not a damn given for anyone who gets in their way – that is the true face of the First Order.”

Kaydel took hold of Rey’s left hand, gripping tightly. Rey squeezed back, shooting a glance at her and seeing that Kaydel was almost vibrating on the spot. Around them, people were nodding, murmuring their assent.

“And this is their weakness, the one that they don’t see in their arrogance. Blind to everything but their infighting, they are vulnerable. So this is when we strike.” Now the room was deathly quiet.

It was the same on every other ship across the fleet, and beyond. The message spread, and found an audience ready to hear it. Across the Galaxy, radios were tuned to the Resistance’s frequency.

Whatever the First Order said, freedom wasn’t just an empty word, traded in a heartbeat for stability. All across the Galaxy, people had fought for it and fought on still. They retold the story of Luke Skywalker on Crait, passed on the tales of his last apprentice and the Resistance. They knew the phoenix symbol, and what it stood for.

Now the First Order, the tyranny which had blighted the Galaxy, was turned in upon itself. Just as Poe said, they were advertising their sheer contempt for their conquered subjects, believing them to be of no consequence. The tyrants had fallen to quarrelling among themselves before they had even cemented their new empire.

The violence, the repression and xenophobia of the First Order were bad enough. But this disregard… that rankled like nothing else. And now here was the Resistance, refuting Kylo Ren’s claim to have slain the last Jedi, laying bare the First Order’s disarray. Urging the Galaxy to seize on that chance.

From Utapau to Coruscant to Kashyyk, people listened tremulously, daring to hope.

“Enough heroes have given their lives for us to get this far. Organa, Solo, Ackbar, Holdo, Skywalker and a million others.” Each name elicited a faint murmur from the crowd. “The tyrants have turned their backs on us because they think we’re nobodies.” Poe turned away, dropping his voice and causing them all to lean in a little. “And you know what that tells me, my friends?”

He wheeled around. “It tells me that they don’t know their damn history! Name any hero of the Resistance or the Rebellion, it’s a fair bet you’re talking about someone who started out as a nobody. Started as a nobody and yet, changed the course of the Galaxy. This is what the First Order has forgotten!”

Rey felt it then. It was like an electric charge running through the assembled rebels. She let her awareness expand, drifting beyond the flagship, and felt it in the crews of every other vessel. And it was there too, in her quickening heartbeat.

Poe took a breath, spoke more quietly but no less firmly. “My friends, a nobody should never be underestimated. A nobody can become anyone, anything from a soldier to a strategist to a Jedi. No matter our species, no matter where we came from, the potential is in all of us. This is what the First Order try to forget… but they still remember enough to fear it. A nobody is a _spark_ , and that spark can set the First Order to burn.” His burning gaze swept over the crowd, and now his words came as a challenge. “So let’s remind them, shall we?”

Just a slightest moment of silence met him. Then a cheer burst from every throat. Rey thrust her saber into the air, followed by Finn’s and then the Scrappers’ weapons. Fists flew up, the cheer swelling.

On the dais, Poe almost took a step back before he caught himself, a look of fierce determination settling on his face. As the cheering died away he held up his hand and spoke again. “We know our mission, we know our duty. So let’s not waste any time. The Resistance marches – to Gorothad!”


	42. The Siege of Gorothad

For two days, Kylo Ren’s forces had laid brutal siege to Gorothad as the storms raged across the planet. From orbit, entire districts could be seen blazing on the surface. Whole legions of Stormtroopers were dead on either side, and fortresses across the world-city burned. Now, as the second day drew to a close and the last of the rains began to peter out, the erstwhile Supreme Leader finally brought his forces to the Palace of Discipline.

TIE fighters and bombers swarmed closely enough to darken whole patches of the sky, raining down fire on and around the Palace. They converged on the great structure, raking the great defence lasers and any shield generators they could reach. Scores were caught by ground fire or defending squadrons, but that too suited Ren’s purposes. Every shot and missile which found a TIE was one that would not find another, less expendable target. Like the transports, from the small squad-carriers to the great blocky ships which now came down on the plaza, the impact of their landing hard enough to shake the building’s very foundations.

Hux had deployed tanks and walkers to the plaza along with thousands of Stormtroopers. They were well-trained and fully equipped, but even they quailed when the bulk landers smashed down and their cavernous hatches opened. And no wonder; they knew what those things carried. A heavy metal foot emerged from the first transport and crunched down on the stone of the plaza. Then another, and an enormous head bedecked with cannons thrust itself into the light. The other transports opened in turn, and with a growl of servos, the beasts of adamantine stepped out.

These were AT-M6s, the dreaded Gorilla Walkers which dwarfed even AT-ATs. If one had looked down at the plaza from above, they would see the defending lines contract slightly as the Gorillas emerged from their transports. With a bestial growl of servos, the monstrous machines hauled themselves into the open, rearing up before their cannons began blazing.

Under that weight of fire, the line collapsed. The AT-MAs, though they were giants in their own right, were outmatched by these goliaths. They buckled and fell even as they fired back. Tanks and lesser walkers were tossed into the air like toys when they were hit, shattered and aflame. Infantry were vaporised where their stood, the stone and rockcrete under their feet pulverised and scorched.

The remaining guns on the walls turned to the new threat, and all around the Palace the night was ripped apart by the searing lights of an artillery duel. Armour ran molten and tore open under the bombardment, just as the hunched giants’ volleys cratered the walls before them and reduced the cannons to wreckage. One quaked and then fell as its limbs were cut out from beneath it. Another stood firm until a missile delved into its engine compartments and disembowelled it in a gout of fire and metal.

Smoke mantled the upper tiers of the city, twisting in the hot winds and illuminated by the flames which burned in the depths beneath the towers. Wreckage and debris tumbled from on high, doing even more damage on the way down. Civilians took shelter as best they could, cowering from the onslaught that their overlords had unleashed on them. The First Order was at war with itself, and the Force help anyone unlucky enough to be caught in the middle.

But they too had heard General Dameron’s address. Their anger at the First Order had been stewing for a long time, and now that the tyrants were killing them with simple carelessness, they had had enough.

Here and there, someone found a discarded blaster, or cast around to find something else which could serve as a weapon. And there were Stormtroopers too, on both sides of the battle, who found themselves first sidling away and then running, throwing off their helmets as they made for the lower levels, trying to put distance between them and the madness.

Neither Ren nor Hux heeded any of that, fixated on one another. The battle raged, only abating as the guns were silenced. The last of the Gorilla Walkers perished under the fire of the Palace’s cannons, their armour stripped away and their metal bones finally giving out. But in the last moments of their suicidal attack, their fire tore the gates open, leaving only rubble and a gaping hole in the once polished stone. The remaining turrets were easy prey for Ren’s bomber squadrons.

Inside the strategium, Hux gave a nod and the heavy blast doors locked into place. He pressed the master comms button, forcing himself to say the words. "All units, deploy to repel the invaders."

Stormtroopers took up position within the chamber and without. Closer to the breach, thousands of his soldiers would be assembling. Hux waited for the next move, feeling sick to his stomach.

The Millennium Falcon, sat on the _Vehement_ ’s flight deck, thronged again. Rey had to weave through the press of bodies to reach the armoury, once Lando Calrissian’s wardrobe. The remaining Scrappers greeted her with rough, cheery embraces and claps on the shoulder. Ki'rii, now fully geared up, hugged her tightly.

“Ready, Captain?” she asked.

“As much as I’ll ever be, Ki’rii. It’s good to have you back with us.”

She could hardly have asked for a better crew. Finn was riding with Jannah and her squads, aboard one of the gunships. But the Falcon had gained a couple of dozen troops besides the Scrappers, crammed into the hold. Poe wasn't about to risk both Jedi aboard a single craft. They would be in the vanguard with Phoenix Company, the very tip of the spear. The second they were in range of Gorothad, their planetfall operation would begin.

They’d need just about everyone they had for this, regular soldiers or not. So Kaydel joined them, pulling on the few spare pieces of armour that Rey had found her.

Rey, already kitted out, rifled through cases and crates, setting aside the empty ones while Kaydel fiddled with the straps. To her surprise, she felt less frightened for her partner than she did proud of her. Now more than ever, Kaydel reminded her of the old pictures she’d seen of Leia, and perhaps as much as anything, that made the armour look right on her.

Kaydel caught Rey looking and struck a pose; blaster up, hip cocked and one eyebrow much the same. “How do I look?”

Rey picked up Kaydel’s helmet and set it on her head. “Dashing,” she declared, doing up the strap, then tucked a couple of fingers under Kaydel’s chin and lifted it to kiss her. “I’m glad you’re with me, Kaydel.”

“Same here.”

The deck kicked under their feet – the fleet was entering hyperspace. They both exhaled – only then realising they’d been holding their breath.

Chewbacca trudged over, rumbling an affirmation that he too was glad to have them both aboard, and pulled the two women into a hug.

“Falcon,” Poe’s voice came faintly from the radio at Rey’s belt. Then a tolerant sigh when they failed to answer. “Rey, put your girlfriend down for a moment and tell me you’re ready.”

Rey freed an arm, reached down and retrieved it. “Not my fault this time, General.” Chewbacca let them both go. “We’re prepped.” They moved to the cockpit, finding Gial already in his favourite seat.

“Then let’s go and give the tyrants what’s coming to them.”

The Palace was breached. With the gates smashed and the turrets silenced, Ren’s shuttle finally soared down, flanked by the gunships which carried his finest divisions. They grounded amongst the burning wreckage of the first waves, the surviving companies regrouping and reforming for the next push. Beyond the gates, Hux’s troops would be doing the same.

Ren emerged onto the ravaged plaza, hot winds snatching at his cloak. The surface was gouged and carpeted with corpses and burned-out war machines. The Knights and Death Troopers took the obstacles in their stride, as Ren threw back his head and bellowed the challenge as they made for the gap in the walls. “Hux!”

He was first through the breach, silhouetted darkly against the burning threshold. Shouts heralded his coming, and beneath his mask, he smiled at the fear he heard in the voices. Stormtroopers packed the hall beyond, and he raised his saber to deflect the wave of laser fire which met him.

He roared again, his helmet’s speaker-grille twisting the sound so that it verged on the inhuman. “ _HUX!_ ”

Volleys from his legionaries snapped over his head as he and the Knights charged into the midst of their enemies. Ren threw up his hand and Stormtroopers were swept off their feet, smacking into comrades or crunching into the walls. Around them, the shield wall of the Death Troopers bore down upon the defenders and smashed into their ranks.

The line crumbled. The Supreme Leader and his troops were in their midst and killing already, stabbing down into the chests of fallen troopers and tearing into those on their feet. Ren snarled and barked as he ripped through the opposition. His blood roared in his ears like artillery, the power of the Dark Side seething through him. He was its conduit – no, its master, channelling all his rage and all the pain and anguish of his enemies, drawing power from it. He felt their fear and gorged upon it.

All was anarchy. The statues of Imperial martyrs and First Order heroes, even Snoke’s likeness at the heart of the chamber, were soon pocked and disfigured by stray shots and blasts. Wilhuff Tarkin’s statue fractured at the knees, leaving the stone figure to topple onto a mass of Hux’s troops and crush them.

An Executioner came for Ren with an electro-axe. Jhorush moved to intercept, easily parrying the clumsy weapon and cleaving the trooper’s chest with his sword. But the blade snagged as the Executioner went limp, and the time Jhorush took to pull it free left him exposed. A squad of enemy troops raised their blasters and caught him in a fusillade of shots. Jhorush fell, his chest a mess of fiery craters.

His killers didn’t get another such victory. Ren and the other Knights tore into them, hacking limbs and heads away. Agonised screams rose from the melee, sometimes quickly cut off and sometimes carrying on until they were silenced.

_I hope you hear all of this, Hux,_ Ren thought _. I’ll do this to everyone who stands between me and my vengeance. The Ren is not denied. The Supreme Leader is not denied._

On Ren went, through the outer precincts as time ceased to hold any meaning for him. There was only the next enemy, the next kill, the next obstacle between him and Hux. As they penetrated deeper, they found themselves fighting through Hux’s crack troops. The Stormtroopers who barred his path were now clad in bright red armour. New Praetorians, he surmised, as conceived with Hux’s singular lack of imagination.

The fighting reached a new pitch, the red legion against the black. Glancing shots beat against Ren’s helmet, shattering one of the lenses. He ripped it free of his head, clubbing one opponent with it before he cast it away and tore into the next squad.

The Knights and spear-carrying Death Troopers ripped into their counterparts in red, blades jabbing at exposed joints. But Hux’s troops were almost their equal in skill and equipment, and they had the Palace’s automated weapons systems on their side as well. Heavy cannons opened up on the invaders just as their weapons raked the halls in reply. The soldiers of the 66th fell in greater numbers. Even the brutal warplate of the heavy weapons squads couldn’t hold out forever against the onslaught.

Nor that of the Knights. Nagai fell, bludgeoned with shock-mauls and pierced with vibro-spears, still slashing at his enemies as he fell. His brothers fell upon the killers and hacked them limb from limb.

The invaders pressed on. At some point an Enforcer reached Ren in the scrum and hammered a truncheon into his side. Ren staggered, feeling the armour crack along with two ribs under it. The Enforcer halted, held in place by the press of bodies, and for a second they stared at one another.

“Oww,” Ren growled. Then he slammed the trooper back and cut him in half.

His troops poured into the Palace now, locking down precincts with well-drilled precision and killing anyone who hindered them. A hundred firefights raged within the vast building. Droids, menials and servants found themselves caught in the crossfire and fled as their own masters abruptly found their hands full. They barricaded themselves in small rooms or made for the storage chambers beneath the Palace, seeking any shelter they could find.

As before, Ren paid no attention to their plight. They were beneath him, and he had just one objective. He fought on, never deviating from his hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being the result of a 40K fan getting let loose with a Star Wars fanfic.


	43. Black on Red

Pryde strode the bridge of the _Subjugator_ , watching Hux’s diehards try desperately to take back the space above the planet. Several small fleets had come screaming in, desperately trying to add their strength to the usurper’s defence.

Idly, Pryde wondered what could drive them to such madness. Surely it couldn’t just be the promise of power and riches. Nor could it be any strength of personality on Hux’s part – that weaselly little bastard was the last man who came to mind when Pryde thought of charisma. No, it must be the same strange kind of fanaticism that Hux subscribed to – a belief not in true power but in submission to some nebulous precision and commitment to bland order.

Fools. Anyone who understood the Empire’s history and indeed that of other past empires would understand that for such a regime to endure and hold the Galaxy’s leash, it must have the Dark Side at its disposal. Else the Force became the natural ally of the disruptive underdog. As for those who active stood in the way of the Dark Side… well, the Battle of Gorothad would no doubt be instructive for future generations. Pryde imagined the lesson would be somewhat lost on the fools here.

Still they came on, claiming a few victims, but their numbers were diminishing.

“Admiral Griss,” Pryde said. “What are our current losses?”

“Just over one third, sir.”

“Tolerable.” He eyed the great field of wreckage which had been Hux’s defence fleet, beyond the starboard viewports. Yes, a third was a price quite worth paying to strip this world of its defences. When this was done, they would rebuild it all, greater still. Never again would the rule of Kylo Ren be challenged. “The real latecomers will see sense when they arrive, and fall in line. Hux never reckoned with the might of the true Supreme Leader.”

And just as well, because with the damage to the fleet, those stragglers would be the ones sent to reassert the First Order’s control of the Galaxy. At least they would have plenty of motivation to do it properly and demonstrate their loyalty. The alternative was to end up like those who had taken Hux’s side in the conflict.

“Anticlimactic, one might say,” he mused to his assembled officers, looking out over the expanse of the _Subjugator_. “But every great struggle needs its epilogue. And there will be more to come. We purify Gorothad today, tomorrow the Galaxy.” A cough turned him about. “What?”

“Allegiant General,” Griss began, sounding mildly bemused. “We have an incoming signal. A Star Destroyer, but an unknown ident.”

“Hmm. This one might actually be one of ours, or at least one of our newly loyal supporters.” And on this day of days, he might as well indulge himself. “Let’s hear their piece.”

The technicians carried out the order quickly, which meant that only a few seconds later, Pryde received an unpleasant shock.

A young man in a First Order captain’s uniform – no, what had once been a captain’s uniform but certainly wasn’t now – appeared in front of Pryde. “This is Captain Arron Bayler of the _Defiance_.”

“Bayler?” Pryde hissed, moving forward. He vaguely recognised the name – and then it hit him. The _Vehement_.

And all around the rogue Star Destroyer, a fleet leapt into space. A hateful jumble of shapes, just the kind of mongrel fleet that the Resistance would sail in – but a powerful one, there was no mistaking that.

The turncoat kept speaking. “In the name of the Resistance and on behalf of General Poe Dameron, we demand your surrender!”

Pryde wheeled around to glare at his officers. “Why are we not killing them already? _Open fire!_ ”

The _Defiance_ dropped away and accelerated as the Resistance fleet broke to starboard and let fly. Other ships followed under cover of their comrades’ broadsides, and Pryde realised with a lurch what they intended.

One of the comms officers cried, “General! We have ships taking heavy damage!”

“Never mind that! Get me a link our commanders on the surface, alert the Supreme Leader – and deploy all reserve fighter squadrons. The Resistance are attempting planetfall!”

The Falcon shot from the _Defiance_ , flanked by Black, Blue, Violet and Silver Squadrons and tailed by gunships. The Resistance transports were pouring from hangars, racing for the shelter of the broken and burned-out Star Destroyers.

Dozens of wrecks turned slowly in the void above the burning surface of Gorothad, the casualties of Hux and Ren’s feud. Rey found it an effort to keep her eyes forward, to not get lost in the insane, heartbreaking scope and savagery of it all.

“They’ve gone mad,” Kaydel whispered, staring out at the sea of dead metal. No one disputed her words. They’d seen the reports and footage from the First Order’s civil war, but to see it first-hand, in all its vastness, shook them all. Then they remembered who would be suffering most from all this – the ordinary people below – and steeled themselves. Nothing made the case against the tyrants, or reminded the Resistance of their duty, like this carnage.

 _This is what we’re fighting too,_ Rey told herself. _Just like Poe said_.

She and Chewbacca carefully plotted their course, pushing the Falcon as hard as they could through the debris-filled space without leaving the other craft behind. The transport squadrons spread out, small formations weaving among the hulks.

“TIEs coming,” Jess radioed. Rey’s eyes flickered to the side and she saw them, a veritable swarm of craft coming from Ren’s fleet, closing in on them. “Black and Blue, on my wing. We’re gonna intercept – give Ren hell for us down there, guys!”

“Roger!” Rey called.

She glanced up to see Black One corkscrew overhead, ignite its booster and streak towards the enemy, guns already blazing. The rest of Black Squadron and Blue followed. Chewbacca roared up at the canopy, cheering the fighters on.

“Agreed,” Rey breathed.

As the dogfights began to rage behind them, the Falcon, the transports and their remaining escorts shot clear of the wrecks and streaked down into the atmosphere.

The tide of slaughter carried Ren to the blast doors of the control room, carpeting the Palace’s inner precincts with armoured corpses. He stepped over a red-liveried Stormtrooper, noting the many rents and holes in the armour. _A nice bit of symbolism, Hux, but a pitiful waste. If only you’d managed to make them fight better_.

Upon reaching the portal, he paused for a moment, drawing himself up. A single camera sat above the gate and he stared into it, knowing that beyond the door, Hux was staring back. After weeks of constant battle, there was just a metre of solid metal between them. Eyes still on the camera, Ren raised his saber. A grimly ironic salute.

There were heavy weapons squads at his disposal who could level that door with a sustained barrage. Some of his Stormtroopers had demolition charges which could get them in. But neither of those were personal enough for Ren right now. He rammed his saber into the door, straining to force it in deeper as an angry orange glow spread out from the point of entry.

Molten metal flaked away as he began to cut downwards, heaving on the blade. Trails of it ran across the dark plating. The heat was welling up from deeper in as the saber penetrated further. Ren felt the searing through his gauntlets, smelt his hair and beard beginning to singe.

On some primal level he detected fear in the chamber beyond, scenting it like the reek of cold sweat. His lips pulled back from his teeth.

The growl welled up from somewhere deep within his chest and as it built to a roar, he pulled the saber back. His fist slammed forward and the shockwave rippled out. The riven doors caved in with a shriek and crash, molten chunks torn free and hurled away. A scream somewhere beyond told Ren that at least one person on the other side hadn’t got clear quickly enough.

He didn’t even wait for the smoke to clear. He stormed into the opening, foreseeing and deflecting the few shots fired at him. He was dimly aware of the Stormtroopers in the room who were already trading fire with his own soldiers, and the officers behind them. But there was only one person in the room who mattered to him right now. There he was at last, staring back at Ren, eyes wide.

Hux went for his pistol, but Ren raised his hand and Force Lightning sprang from his fingertips. It blew the general off his feet and Hux shrieked as he was hurled backwards. He landed painfully on a console, glass breaking under him.

Stolan was next. He got a shot off, but Ren deflected it with a gesture and his saber took the Colonel across the throat. The Knights and Death Troopers surged past him, cutting down Hux’s soldiers and knocking his officers to the ground. Ren moved on, not watching Stolan clutching at his throat, eyes wide, smoke seeping from between his fingers.

Hux’s eyes were locked on his last ally as the big man slumped noiselessly to the ground. What little colour had ever been in his face was gone now.

Then Ren was on him. He seized the usurper by the throat and hoisted him into the air, putting his face right against Hux’s. The words rasped out, staccato and bleeding hatred. “Long – live - the Supreme Leader?”

Hux, bleeding from the hairline, could only splutter and gasp. A perfect moment, the dream of which had sustained Ren all through the long march to here.

“You are going to die a traitor’s death,” he promised Hux. “I will drag you out onto the plaza and strike your head off for the whole Galaxy to see. _This_ is the fate of anyone who dares stand against the Supreme Leader. And that is all you will ever be remembered for.”

The heavy haft of Krobakh’s axe rang against the floor. “Master!” the Knight grated, soundly oddly worried. Ren turned to look at him, and found the Knight pointing to the strategium’s holo display. “Something is happening in orbit.”

Ren let Hux drop, extinguishing his lightsaber as he approached the hologram. Miraculously it had survived the firefight, though its display crackled and flickered as Ren tried to parse what the images it showed. For a moment he felt only confusion, but then he understood the story it told him. An implausible story, impossible, he’d have liked to say. Except that it was unfolding before him.

He saw the ragged fleet which had come charging into the system – no, not ragged. The ships were varied, but they had a discipline which matched their fervour. He saw his armada losing ships, dozens of ships. And most of all, he saw the scores of transports now pelting down to the surface, aiming for the Palace.

He looked up through the dome, at the sky lit by what might be the first light of the coming dawn, but mostly by the fire of the great warships.

“This, Hux,” he said quietly, contemplatively, “is what your treachery has brought us. Look at it.” He pointed to the holo with his saber hilt, not caring to see if Hux’s eyes actually followed the gesture. “You did this to us. Because of you, the Resistance have landed troops on Gorothad itself. What would old Snoke have made of that?”

“You dare speak that name?” Hux spat back from where he knelt, “The Resistance are here because _you_ murdered our Supreme Leader and failed to destroy them.” His finger stabbed at the holos, but the accusation was directed straight at Ren. “This is your work as much as it is mine!”

Ren let Hux have his little tantrum. His own anger had died down to a simmer which could almost be mistaken for tranquillity, as he gazed at the holos and absorbed their full import. This made things simple. The rump of the Resistance had brought itself to him, and he would destroy them. As always he was beset on all sides, but they no longer had a Jedi within their ranks. What was an enemy without the Force on their side?

“Supreme Leader,” one of his captains dared to prompt him. “Your orders?”

Ren didn’t return his gaze, instead watching Hux struggle back to his feet. “Secure the last precincts with what troops are needed for the task. Redeploy everything else to the outer limits. All units in the lower levels are to regroup and dig in to hold off the invaders.”

The fingers of his sword hand flexed. _Who leads them here? Dameron? The Traitor?_ No matter. He would find their leader and cut him apart, piece by piece. Nothing in this Galaxy was his equal, not any more.

His rage flared again. Ren lunged back towards Hux, smashing the hilt of his saber into the other man’s nose. Hux flopped back onto the floor, clutching his face. Ren didn’t spare him a glance. “Cuff them all and take them to the dungeons. The executions can wait.”


	44. Planetfall

The Falcon, at the head of the Resistance spearhead, plunged through turbulent air and clouds which were mostly smoke. Silver and Violet Squadrons hurtled down around them, scanners raking the smog.

“Nasties coming up,” Kaydel said. Rey saw them, TIE Fighters and Interceptors streaking up to meet them. “Look alive, everyone.”

“We’re on them,” came the clipped reply of Violet Leader. The fighters dispersed and assumed attack vectors, even as they abruptly dropped out of the clouds.

Gorothad’s tormented surface sprawled before them, riddled with flames. The night sky was lit from horizon to horizon by fire. Smaller lights came into view – TIE Fighters, Silver and Violet Squadrons dispersing and racing ahead to meet them. The Falcon’s own turrets kicked into life, but most of the enemy fighters were already cut off by their own. Those that get close did found Tannel and Ki’rii manning the cannons, and the guns of the H-Wings opening up thunderously too. They didn’t last long.

Rey tilted the ship away from a fan of laser fire from an interceptor, setting Ki’rii up for a shot which took out the offender craft. “Have you and R2 found us a landing site, Kaydel?”

“Shunting it,” Kaydel breathed, fingers racing over her data-slate. Rey glanced down at her console and saw it. A number of squares and open spaces were highlighted on the display, just a few clicks north and close to the Palace of Discipline. The rest of their strike force would be seeing them too.

“Violet Leader, are we clear to land?”

“All clear, Falcon.”

“Then get yourselves back to the battle,” Rey said. “May the Force be with you.”

“And you too, Captain.”

The transports pulled out of their sharp dives, Rey letting the Falcon plummet on a little further before doing the same, trusting to the old warhorse’s durability. Below them, the towers fell away, leaving the Palace to dominate the vista. She saw the landing zone Kaydel had picked now, and the hunched mass of the Palace beyond.

“It’s cluttered,” she muttered. The scans were turning up a lot of debris. No Stormtroopers yet though – she’d take that. “Ah, what the hell, this is all a roll of the dice.” She toggled the radio’s setting to carry over to the rest of the strike force. “We’re setting down!”

She sprang out of her seat the moment the ship touched down, the pounding of boots immediately sounding from back in the hull, thudding down the ramp. Their squads had already moved out, leaving only the Scrappers to form up around her, Chewie and Kaydel.

“Shall we, Captain?” LM asked.

Rey bared her teeth, knowing how feral the grin must look. “Try and keep up.”

Finn was already out on the ferrocrete, pulling the squads into formation as they sprang from their transports. They came together with admirable speed, and he permitted himself a moment to take in his surroundings.

So did Jannah and Jaicyn. “Stars’ end…” Jaicyn breathed.

None of them had ever seen the capital in person before. Obviously it had featured heavily in the propaganda reels they'd grown up with, but Gorothad had always been somewhere far off. That was all part of the conditioning, cultivating the sense that every Stormtrooper was just the smallest part of the machine, all turning to the distant will of the Supreme Leader. Now, though, Finn stood on the world and gazed up at the seat and symbol of the power which had claimed him and so many others...

And it was bigger even than they’d imagined. It recalled the Supremacy in its sheer, absurd mass, a grotesque statement of power and arrogance even in its brutalised state.

Jannah broke the silence. “It’s funny, really. All those time we were told to imagine landing on Gorothad as conquering heroes, and look at us now.”

“I don’t know.” Finn turned to her, smiling. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the steady kick of his heartbeat. “Conquering heroes is what I’m aiming for here.”

The Falcon’s complement ventured out into the firelit night, hearing shouted orders echoing back at them from the walls. Finn was pulling together the divisions. Further off they could hear more engines, seeking other places to land and surround Ren’s position.

“Site secure, moving out!” Finn’s voice came over the radio. Just as well. The Palace loomed over them here, seeming as huge as the mountains on Vatel, and Ren’s forces would already be on their way down to the lower levels. They needed to move out fast, hit the enemy and force their way to the Palace. Everything rested on a knife-edge.

“Wait!” came a shout from the rear. “We’ve got incoming from behind us.”

“I’m on it,” Rey radioed. “Commander – Finn please, hold.”

Ducking under the Falcon again, they made for the other end of the square. She could hear them now; the rumble of many feet and voices. It sounded confused, disordered, but then she wondered if that was just the effect of the fighting here.

The rearguard had taken up positions behind fences and other cover, guns trained on the oncoming crowd. Just thirty soldiers – they’d counted on any hostiles being up in the Palace. Rey slid in beside one of their sergeants and he turned to her.

“Captain, we won’t be enough to halt them. What are we going to do?”

Rey struggled for the right words. They’d need to run, dispersing into the alleys and using the smaller spaces to fend off the enemy. If they let themselves be caught on both sides, that would be the end.

And they’d need a distraction. Her sword-hand clenched on her saber. “When I ignite it,” she told the soldiers around her, “you withdraw.” She met Kaydel’s eyes, nodding gravely, trying to make her believe that she’d catch them up.

Then she stood, preparing herself to leap out from behind her shelter. They were close now, just visible amid the smoke and in the dim light. Hundreds, thousands even. They’d come so swiftly. She tensed, readying herself, feeling the warcry build in her chest. Now she would lunge out and-

“Wait!” Kaydel shouted, grabbing her arm. And then Rey saw it as well. She glanced back at Kaydel, nodding.

“Hold,” she said, and moved out of cover, pushing down the nearest soldier’s gun. The rest hesitated, and then lowered their weapons.

The newcomers weren’t soldiers at all. They were civilians, bedraggled and begrimed, but they were all armed. And she saw the hope that burned in their eyes when they looked at her.

One stepped forward, a big Trandoshan. “We are the spark,” he boomed up at them.

Rey extended her free hand, beckoning them. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Finn gave the order and his strike force moved out, the ground trembling under so many running feet. Up, up they went, finding the higher levels now strewn with wreckage and Stormtrooper bodies. Here and there, they also found deserters, raw-looking youths who’d hurled away their helmets and were making for whatever looked like safety. They pointed them to the landing sites, and more than a few of the civilians gained a blaster in thanks. Some of the deserters saw their counterparts in Phoenix Company, and fell in without a word.

They moved through alleys and streets, always heading higher, converging on another square. A flight of steps led up to a parade ground, and then the Great Ascension which one followed all the way to the plaza and the Palace. On triumph days, victorious generals and their troops would trek up those steps, to receive the recognition of the Supreme Leader.

The smoke was thicker here, billowing up to catch the light of the coming dawn. And Finn could hear shouts from above, and something else besides…

“Feel that?” came Rey’s voice in his ear. She’d sensed it too.

“Ren and his Knights,” he murmured back. “When the time comes, we take ‘em together, right?”

“Right.”

He turned his attention back to their advance. “The enemy will be on us soon,” Jaicyn growled next to him.

Finn heard the tramping of boots. “Right on schedule.” He spoke into his radio. “Captains, open fire when in range!”

Then the first rank of Stormtroopers appeared over the edge of the steps.

A voice sounded above them. “It’s the traitor!”

Jaicyn glanced at Finn. “ _The_ traitor?”

“Looks like their maths is off,” Jannah said wryly.

Finn smiled, but didn’t answer. He simply raised his saber and shouted, “At them!”

Then he was running, gaining the ridge right as the Stormtroopers came into view. His first shot took a trooper in the chest, his second hit another in the shoulder and sent him spinning backwards. That put him among the enemy and suddenly they were within reach of the saber. Even hardened Stormtroopers recoiled for a moment as he struck out. Before they could gather themselves, the Phoenixes had come up on Finn’s heels and slammed into them.

The company facing them went down, swept off their feet by sheer momentum. Blaster bolts snapped through the air towards Finn, but he intercepted them with his saber and sent a few straight back to the shooters. Riot troopers moved in with crackling batons. Jannah and Jaicyn advanced to Finn’s side and together they met their attackers in a flurry of blows. The riot troopers fell. Another Stormtrooper company descended to meet them, but then Rey and the Scrappers sprinted up and suddenly the would-be attackers were beset themselves.

That set the pace and rhythm of their assault. They attacked like a raging sea, striking in overlapping waves. Even as one squad or company began to lose momentum, another surged up and their fury broke upon the enemy.

Finn waded into the midst of the enemy, and if his troops were checked, Rey would come tearing in, blades slicing and wheeling as the Scrappers followed in her wake.

The Stormtroopers' formations were broken apart, piece by piece and the soldiers scattered and thrown down. Bipedal walkers came marching down the steps, ready to sweep the attackers away. The H-Wings arose from the landing sites, cannons thundering, and smote the machines.

Again and again the battle cry rang out, reverberating through the air. "We are the spark!"

At some point in the attack, Finn saw a flash of gold light in the midst of the fighting, and Rey emerged from the scrum. She leapt atop a smashed scout walker, brandishing her saber above her head, and the cheer from below shook the air around her. Then she jumped down, landing amid a squad of Riot Troopers.

They never laid a single blow on her. She went through them like a cyclone, never pausing, never relenting. With the saberstaff, her fighting gained a newfound freedom and fluidity, weaving out of the way when an opponent swung for her and striking back too fast to be countered. A veritable dervish. It leant fresh strength to Finn’s limbs, and he redoubled his own attacks.

Despite the danger, despite the chaos and violence, there was something glorious about this. Finally he could fight unfettered and purposefully, give free rein to the righteous anger he’d kept bottled up so long. Before long, the remaining Stormtroopers had been driven into a headlong retreat.

“Hold!” Finn called, and his officers took up the cry. The companies came to a halt, forming up again.

They were at the steps, the Palace and plaza right above them. Finn took stock, contacting the other strike forces. They’d all taken casualties during the ascent, but not too many. Other units were already mounting the first attacks on the plaza; Ren hadn’t yet extricated himself from the bloodbath which must have unfolded inside the Palace, and they intended to keep him on the back foot. But the main push would go to Finn and his divisions.

Rey and her squad approached. He looked them over, exchanging fierce grins with the Scrappers. Kaydel’s helmet looked like it’d taken a knock, but she was still on her feet and wearing a defiant expression. Chewbacca too was whole. And Rey… Rey’s eyes were alight, energy crackling off her.

“We’re not the Resistance anymore,” Finn said, turning to face the troops and raising his voice to a shout. “Today, we’re the reprisal!”

A defiant cheer answered him.

“Best not delay.” Rey reached out to touch his shoulder. “We’re sticking to the plan?”

“Yeah. I’ll take the main force up the centre and get Ren’s attention,” he said. “Rey, you and the Scrappers cut around and flank them.” They shared a long look. “Good luck.”

“You too.” Rey gathered up the Scrappers and off they went, followed by more troops.

Finn drew himself up, raised his saber in both hands. His company stepped into place beside him. “With me!” he shouted, and they began the run up the steps, towards the Palace.

Pain wracked Kylo Ren’s body as he dragged himself through the Palace. His exertions and prolonged exposure to the mag-coils of his armour had built to an acidic burn in every muscle and ligament, and he had taken his share of blows during the fighting. Some part of his torso was bleeding; he could feel the warm wetness somewhere under his armour. The four Knights who remained on their feet were just as battered.

He was vaguely, dully aware of the devastation in the Palace interior, the scorched banners, the statues and façades which had crumbled under gunfire, the bodies which carpeted the floors. He could hear the sounds of fighting outside, announcing the Resistance’s arrival in _his domain_ , and everything else paled beside the slight. 

“Is there no end to this?” he rasped, as he strode to the breach in the wall. Even Verix had the sense not to speak at that.

He gritted his teeth. The Supreme Leader was not defied. Pain did not hinder him. Agony, whether his or anyone else’s, was sustenance to him. Whatever pain he felt would be dealt out a thousandfold to these irritants.

Through the cavernous ruin of the gates he marched, and into sunlight. The dawn was breaking across the Palace and the plaza, which heaved with wreckage and combatants. With all the smoke in the air the sun rose a bloody red, silhouetting the towers. Dead opposite, it shone through the gaps in the great carving of the First Order symbol. But that wasn’t what drew Ren’s gaze. Nor was it the battle already taking place, his forces arrayed behind the smashed vehicles and trading fire with the Resistance troops on either side. Even the company of Death Troopers who hunkered down amidst the wreckage, preparing to break from cover and engage them at close range, couldn’t hold his focus.

No, that honour went to the infantry dead opposite him, marching up the Great Ascension and onto the plaza. They wore Stormtrooper armour – he could tell that from its shape – and for a second Ren thought they were reinforcements, come to crush the invaders. But then he realised their helmets were wrong, and that their armour wasn’t the gleaming white it ought to be. It was… bare metal, with the phoenix emblem of the Resistance scorched onto it.

For a second or so, he tried to understand how this could be. And then one of the newcomers detached himself from the formation, and an indigo lightsaber came to life in his hand.

Clarity came to Ren in that instant. Of course. The one who’d caused him misery ever since Jakku. The one who Ren had gazed upon in the burning village and for whom he had felt that uneasy premonition. How hatefully true it had proven.

The traitor saw him, flourishing his blade as he fell into a combat stance. Either side of him, the shields locked. By then Ren was already running, the order to attack tearing from his throat as he rushed into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any Jenny Nicholson fans reading this, then yes, "veritable dervish" is indeed the Alan Dean Foster reference you suspected it was.


	45. A Duel of Fates

“Charge!” Finn yelled, and around him Phoenix Company roared as they thundered into contact. They smashed into the ranks of black-clad Death Troopers, locking shield-to-shield, bludgeoning and stabbing. Covered by Jaicyn and Jannah on either side, Finn cut his way through the melee.

To either side another cry went up, as more rebels hit the 66th on their flanks and pushed them back into the midst of the wrecked walkers and tanks. From that point it was less a pitched battle than it was a brawl.

Finn led the push forward, cutting down Stormtroopers, Enforcers and Death Troopers alike, constantly warded by Jannah and Jaicyn’s shields. He felt the presence of Kylo Ren and his remaining Knights, looming closer. And Rey, somewhere off to his left, fighting her own battle along with the Scrappers. Knowing she was there gave him strength, and he pressed on, shoulder against the tide, cut and thrust.

They pushed further in, the ranks of the enemy thinning before them. And there he was. It was only a fleeting glimpse, but Finn caught sight of Kylo Ren in the scrum, surrounded by his Knights and guards as he laid about him with his saber. Bellowing for his enemy to show himself.

“Two-One-Eight-Seven!” Finn heard the cry, heard Ren repeat it. He tightened his grip on the saber and advanced to face his enemy, trusting that Rey would be close. He could feel her somewhere in the melee, but the surging tide of emotion around him, and the baleful rage of the Knights, made clarity impossible.

In the event, one of the Knights reached him first – Ren’s lieutenant. Yimur, wielding his broadsword two-handed in imitation of his master, barged his way through the melee to get to Finn. Finn saw him coming and paused, holding back so Jannah and Jaicyn pulled in close to him again. As one, they met Yimur’s attack.

Rey leapt to face the other three Knights, a single blade lit and the Scrappers moving in her wake, lunging in unison.

She marked them each – Verix, wielding the hooked blades with which he had killed Nyzar, Krobakh with the heavy axe and Nazur with his long, curved sword. The Ren’s fury emanated from them like a looming shadow, but the glare of her inner light met it and rent the darkness to shreds.

Verix was the first to reach her, swords whipping through the air and shrieking when they struck her saber. She saw Krobakh’s axe sweeping up, ready to descend, and dodged to the left. Then she saw Nazur and swung for him.

Verix, suddenly exposed, took a bolt in the side from Chewbacca’s bowcaster, staggering him. Next he was caught in the chest by LM’s mace and smashed to the ground for Tannell to deliver the killing blow. Krobakh made to come after Rey, but Kuoma and Ki’rii cornered him, parrying his heavy blows and fencing him off from their leader, before Olesin moved in. Krobakh whirled, but too slow, and Olesin drove his spear through the axeman’s chest.

Rey laid into Nazur. He was strong, and fast – but she was faster. Every time the Knight slashed at her, Rey deflected the sword. She bided her time, waiting for the opening and then flung her foot out. The attack drove her boot hard into his knee. Her next blow drove him back a step, as did the next. Rey didn’t let up.

It ended quickly. She darted inside the Knight’s reach, hooking the vibro-sword and forcing it down. With her enemy exposed she ignited her second blade and struck, slashing him from shoulder to hip.

With the edges of the wound still glowing, the Knight slumped to his knees and collapsed.

Yimur Ren reeled and howled at the deaths of his comrades, but not for a second did he relent. His and Finn’s blades crashed against one another, sparks spitting with each exchange.

Finn had spent enough time with Rey’s training holocrons now to recognise Shii Cho, the oldest of the lightsaber Forms. It had been codified back when the Jedi still used edged weapons, which made it appropriate enough for Yimur. A crude Form, perhaps, but Yimur’s skill and ferocity exploited its raw potency.

Still, the Knight was fatigued from hours of fighting, and Finn had his own skill and power to answer him. He absorbed the impacts of Yimur’s attacks and countered, combining the precepts of Djem So with his Stormtrooper training. Now Yimur was on the back foot, but Finn didn’t pursue him. He knew his enemy was more mobile, so he held back, Jaicyn and Jannah guarding his flanks.

Behind Yimur his master’s voice sounded again above the fray: “Two-One-Eight-Seven!”

“I’ll hand him your head,” Yimur snarled, rallying and striking again. “And I’ll have that saber too.”

“Then come get it.” Finn braced as Yimur sprang forward, but then Jannah and Jaicyn were there again, deflecting his strikes with their spears. Jannah stabbed forward. Her blade bit into his armour with a crackle and the Knight flinched. Finn saw his opening and pounced, driving his enemy into retreat.

A quick stab was barely deflected. His next blow beat Yimur’s guard. Before the dark warrior could gather himself and block, Finn struck again. His saber took the Knight across the chest, cleaving through the armour and the ribcage beneath, and Yimur toppled backwards.

That left no one between Finn and Ren, and their eyes met. The sound of the fighting around Finn seemed to die away as the Supreme Leader took a pace forward. He’d seen Finn kill his last servant, and fury mingled with disbelief on his face.

“ _Traitor_ ,” he growled. A tremor rippled outwards from him through the Force, like thunder or cannon fire.

“How many times do I have to tell you people?” Finn stepped over the fallen Knight, now well ahead of Jannah’s troops. He levelled his saber at Ren. “The name’s Finn.”

There was no time for him to go on the offensive. Ren simply bulled towards him, wheeling his saber in huge, sizzling arcs. The impacts hammered against Finn’s defence. A badly injured Ren had dominated him when they first fought on the Starkiller, and even though Finn was more skilful now, he was simply outclassed. Ren’s attacks came almost too fast to see, let alone block. His angles of attack varied wildly, driving Finn to his limit.

Another minute more of this, and he would be killed.

“I broke the last Jedi,” Ren rasped between swings. “And you… you’re not even an apprentice. What chance do you think you have?”

Finn didn’t waste a breath on answering. He hurled himself into his own attacks to compensate, employing the kind of heavy strokes he’d used with his shock-baton. The sabers clashed even more fiercely. That got him a bit of ground back, and he smashed his heel into his enemy’s shin – for a moment he drove Ren into retreat.

Ren’s back foot found a fallen Stormtrooper, enough to unsteady him for a moment. Finn lunged immediately, but Ren was too fast for him. He threw out his free hand and Finn’s saber halted in midair, caught on an invisible shield.

He made to pull the blade back, but the inertia had caught his arms, becoming a vice on his muscles. He bared his teeth, hauling against it – and then he saw the cunning, cruel look on Ren’s face.

“Your power’s no match for mine, _Finn_.” The Supreme Leader raised his saber, levelling it at Finn’s chest. One quick stab would drive it through his heart, and he was powerless to halt it. “And now you’ll die, just like her.”

Despite everything, Finn found himself smiling at that. “Are you so sure she’s dead?”

Ren tried to mask it, but Finn saw the flicker of uncertainty there. “What-”

Then he sensed her. He spun around, his hold on Finn breaking as Rey leapt into the fray. He barely caught her first strike, or the second. Even when he regained his balance, she pressed him hard, their blades splitting the air and snarling against one another.

In all the time Finn had fought with her, he’d never seen her move so quickly.

Ren eyes were on the yellow saber. “How-”

“Your uncle says hello.” She jabbed at his throat. He caught the thrust, then stepped sideways as Finn rejoined the fight. Even now, Ren managed to block their attacks, striking back with renewed fury.

They broke apart. Unbidden, a gap had opened up in the melee. The fighting still raged around the three of them, but all their attention was on one another. Ren fell into a defensive posture as the two Jedi circled him, but for the moment his eyes were locked on Rey.

“This was my mother’s work, wasn’t it? So when the choice finally came, she chose you.” He was silent again for a moment, but then he chuckled wryly. “Of course it had to be this way. It had to be the two of you at the end.” He stood a little straighter, with a small shake of his head. “How long has it been since we first did this?”

“Long enough,” Rey replied. She and Finn halted, either side of Ren. Finn caught the look that passed between the other two, tinged with a strange kind of sorrow.

In that second, time seemed to stretch out, distorting under the weight of history itself. The Force held its breath.

Three years of struggle between them. Thirty years after the abuses of the Sith and the Empire should have ended. It all came down to this.

Ren gave them the ghost of a shrug, beckoning them. “Come on, then,” he murmured. Then the calm façade cracked and that volcanic rage boiled up to the surface. “ _Come on!_ ”

As the battle raged around them, they fought.

The line of First Order ships was bending back on itself, close to breaking under the weight of the Resistance’s assault. The balance of numbers had been close, dangerously so, but the defenders already bore wounds from the prior battle. Their crews had been at work for days, weeks even. That exacted a toll of its own, and for all the First Order’s technological might, that mattered at a time like this.

Poe watched Star Destroyers come apart under carefully coordinated broadsides and bomber runs, while others, badly mauled, retreated into the shadows of their fellows. Even the imposing _Subjugator_ was beginning to flag under the bombardment, its shields weakening as it wallowed among thickets of laser-fire and gouts of plasma.

Just as importantly, their ground assets had all launched now, baring down on the First Order’s fortress below.

“We’re winning,” one of the bridge officers breathed.

“Hold that thought,” Poe chided him. “Green Squadron, hit that cruiser. Mongrel and Violet, cover their run!”

But he felt the elation that ran through the crew as well. The momentum was theirs, the enemy were ceding more and more space to them. Just a little more and they might even press them into retreat or surrender. They might actually win this-

Klaxons began to blare, cutting through all other noise. “New proximity alerts, to our rear!” Farrun called.

“No,” Poe breathed. Then he yelled “Reorient the fleet! Pull away from the new signals, minimal exposure!”

Fresh squadrons of Star Destroyers came into view. These were the carrion-feeders, Poe knew, the deliberate stragglers who had waited for the clear winner to emerge from the struggle between Hux and Ren. But even if their captains were cowards, they would see that their arrival had tipped the balance firmly in favour of the First Order.

Now they came on, unbloodied and ready to kill, ready to prove their loyalty. Without preamble, they began their attack on the Resistance ships.

“Kriff,” Poe cursed under his breath, but he couldn’t afford to let morale flag now. So he raised his voice again. “We need to give our people on the surface their chance. Fight on!”

The three duellists whirled and clashed amid the smoke and fire, under the wrathful red glare of the rising sun.

Ren’s strength and speed were still breathtaking, despite al the damage he had taken. He had given himself over entirely to his fury, sunk so deep into the darkness that it hurt to even be near him. His wrath and pain permeated the Force around them, a firestorm which beat on Finn and Rey’s defences as furiously as his saber did. More than enough to push Finn and Rey to their limits. His saber snapped through the air to catch their blows, and when they managed to strike together, he used the Force to hold a saber at bay before lashing back at them.

But he couldn’t block every attack, and facing the two of them at once, he couldn’t risk a blade lock. So the two Jedi harried him. Rey wheeled around Ren, aiming a blow at his side. He jerked back with a grunt and kicked her roughly away, only for Finn to launch a fresh barrage of attacks which gave Rey the seconds she needed to close again.

This time she jumped onto a lump of wreckage and went for his head, and when he jerked aside she leapt down and came at him with her other blade. She stabbed at Ren’s chest, and while he batted it away, it gave Finn an opening. Even as Ren stepped sideways, Finn slashed at his stomach. It cut through the armour and opened a shallow wound in the flesh beneath.

Ren gasped in pain, and Rey saw blood on his armour. They pressed him again, raining attacks down. Finn took a great overhead swing which Ren caught on his blade, recoiling a little before he pushed back. Rey seized her chance and darted in, but Ren threw up an invisible barrier to halt her saber. Both of them strained against his defence, but Ren moved first. With a snarl, he pivoted and slammed his elbow into Finn’s chest hard enough to throw him backwards, his lightsaber tumbling from his hands. Rey staggered forwards, the resistance against her saber suddenly gone.

She saw Ren’s blade rise to attack Finn and leapt forward to intercept. The sabers clashed, blazing even more fiercely than before. “It doesn’t have to end this way, Ben,” she hissed.

He almost managed to retort, but then he saw Finn regain his feet and lunge. Ren lurched back, deflecting Finn’s saber before turning back to block a flurry from Rey. He wove around their attacks and responded with his own, jabbing at Rey’s stomach and aiming a vicious slash at Finn’s throat.

Already, they were feeling the strain of the fight. Their limbs ached with exertion. Sweat stung Rey’s eyes. Each time they blocked one of Ren’s attacks, the sheer impact jarred their arms. So overpowering was his presence in the Force that it took both of them to stand against him, their light combined to counter his darkness.

But as much as it wore at them, it did the same to Ren. He couldn’t land a meaningful blow with them supporting one another, and they dealt him more and more damage in return. Soon his armour was lacerated, and his cloak hung in tatters from his shoulders.

He should fall. He ought to be on the ground already. Rey couldn’t guess how long he’d been fighting for, but she could see enough to know that he shouldn’t be on his feet. And yet he just kept coming on, his endurance defying all sense. He tapped the deep well of his rage and pain to hurl it at them in turn. The red saber whipped out again, met Rey’s blade, dipped and flickered back. She and Finn blocked it as one, bracing and pushing back together.

Ren leaned heavily on the blade, breaths scraping through his teeth, but they threw him back and struck again. He parried Rey’s saber one-handed, caught Finn’s wrist in his other hand, visibly straining to hold them off. Rey could feel his anger and pain, so intense that it was like holding her face in front of a furnace. And under that, she could feel building pressure, Ren dredging up every last ounce of his power. Even the saber seemed to snarl even more viciously than before.

Something inside Ren snapped. Black fire ignited in his eyes. The eruption rippled out across his face, contorting it. He smashed a boot into Finn’s shin, dropping him to the ferrocrete. With his next movement he shoved Rey back, clenching his now free hand.

Pressure suddenly built up in the air around them. They gathered themselves and sprang back, hoping to cut him short, but too late. A roar broke from Ren’s throat. He opened his fist and lightning burst from his fingers.

For a split-second there was no sound. The next, a detonation of searing blue and white. It engulfed them, howled through them, became nerve-shredding pain. Rey and Finn were hurled backwards.

Finn thudded into the shell of a broken walker, slumping unconscious to the ground. Rey landed face-down on the stone, wheezing. Her vision swam, pain lingering in her eyes and teeth. Her saberstaff, she dully realised, had flown clear of her hands.

Clarity returned, and she felt Ren behind her. She twisted over, looking to get clear, but he slammed a boot down on her torso, driving the air from her lungs and pinning her. Alone, the full weight of his wrath turned upon her, she felt like she’d been buried in volcanic ash. In vain she struggled, but she was powerless under the pressure. Without a word, Ren reversed the saber and stabbed down.

Throwing out a hand, Rey called her saber into her hand and batted the blade away. Ren recovered and swung for her neck – she caught the blow, but Ren put his weight behind the blades and forced them down, lowering himself so his knee pressed down on her chest. He inched one of the crosspiece blades towards her throat, so close that it seared her skin. Slowly, inexorably, it moved nearer.

“You can’t win this!” he snarled down at her, the light of their weapons blazing in his eyes. “The rest of my ships are in orbit now. They’ll crush your fleet and your rabble here. All you’ve achieved is to gather yourselves in one place, ready to be destroyed. You’re outnumbered, Rey, outmatched and all alone.”


	46. To Make an End

The Resistance fleet was hemmed in, caged against the fields of dead ships by First Order vessels.

“Hold!” Poe called. “Hold the line! Fight on!” Beside him, Farrun strode the deck, barking out targets and ordering damaged vessels to pull back. Every crew member worked on, faces set. The fighters and bombers outside still wheeled and flitted through the tumult.

But it couldn’t change the facts. They were outnumbered and hemmed in as more and more First Order ships emerged into space. The _Subjugator_ loomed above the _Solo_ , its guns blazing away. Jess and Snap’s squadrons had broken off their attack runs, forced to defend the Resistance ships against wave after wave of TIE craft.

Every minute seemed to see another Resistance vessel sundered, and more fighters shot to pieces. The enemy were losing ships too, but there were simply too many of them, able to weather the losses and expend their assets with hateful equanimity. The radio was a constant stream of bad news and hoarse, desperate voices.

“We’ve lost Green Leader!”

“ _Emancipator_ ’s taking heavy damage.”

“Mongrel Squadron’s gone, all gone!”

“ _Adamant Shield_ reports fires in the hull!”

“Grey Squadron is down three bombers-”

“ _Energy spike from the enemy flagship!_ ”

Poe watched in horror as the three red spears leapt from the _Subjugator_ , annihilating any fighters caught in their path, and struck the _Aldera_. The first rippled over the battleship’s shields, the second burst them, and the third plunged into fractured armour and tore the vessel apart.

Poe flinched, throwing up a hand to shield his eyes against the blast. When he looked again, the battleship was nothing more than a cloud of vaporised metal.

Their formation was crippled. Around the lost _Aldera_ , more Resistance ships were being carved open by volleys from the Star Destroyers. Before Poe’s very eyes, an X-Wing was set upon by three TIE Daggers and blasted to atoms.

They’d been _so close_ to winning. So close to righting the Galaxy, as the First Order tore itself apart. But all their hopes, and all the sacrifices, had been in vain.

“It can’t end this way,” he protested.

“General,” Farrun said.

Poe barely heard him, raging at the injustice of it all. “This is not how it ends!”

Farrun grabbed his arm. “And it isn’t!” He raised a hand. “Look, General.”

He followed the admiral’s pointing finger to a patch of space high above the Star Destroyers. Lights were flashing, clear white against the inky black. Incoming ships. The _Rapscallion_ and its escorts… and more.

The holo lit up beside him. Rose and Maz stood there, beaming. “General, we’ve brought you the fire.”

Down on the surface, still trying to fend off Ren’s attack, Rey felt a stirring in the Force. She looked beyond her opponent, and among the fading stars, she saw a flicker of lights. Shooting stars? Debris?

No, she realised. Those lights were ships emerging from hyperspace – scores of them. And they couldn’t be the enemy’s. Not even the First Order could boast that many ships.

She looked back at Ren, feeling strength return to her limbs. “We’re not alone.”

For a second, Ren stared down at her, searching her eyes for some hint of meaning. Then he looked to the skies, a look of unmistakable horror fixing itself upon his features. “No,” he rasped.

The next moment, he roared with pain as Finn’s blade burst from his stomach. Rey saw her friend behind Ren, trying to cut upwards with the lightsaber. Blood was seeping from under his hairline, but he was on his feet, heaving on the blade. Only Ren’s armour was keeping him from being carved open.

But however great the agony Ren felt, his rage was greater. He crunched an elbow into Finn’s chest before reaching down to take his hand in a crushing vice-grip. Finn’s grasp weakened, and Ren found the saber’s power stud and extinguished it. For a second he lurched, no longer impaled on the blade.

Then he lunged forward, lashed back at Rey, uncaring of the hole in his torso. She rose to one knee, deflected his attack and countered, driving him back as she regained her feet. Finn too rallied, and together they set upon him again.

A great, motley fleet poured into the void around Gorothad. The variety was bewildering – everything from destroyers to cruisers, and hundreds of small craft filling the space between them.

“Rose,” Poe breathed, giddy with elation. “You little wonder.”

The newcomers wasted no time, streaking down to assail the First Order. Mandolorian hunter-ships knifed through the void at their head, and the rest followed behind them. One slab-sided hauler hailed the _Solo_ , and the familiar growling of Hret Guular sounded. “He did say he wouldn’t forget,” C-3PO said. Even the old droid sounded giddy.

“True enough,” was all Poe could manage. He felt dazed, light-headed. “True enough.” Then he gathered himself, signalling Farrun to open a channel to the new arrivals. “Welcome friends, and thank you. Now, for the Republic, for our freedom-” His finger stabbed forward. “ _Attack_!”

Rose’s ragtag armada descended on the First Order ships, fighters and bombs diving to bathe their hulls in fire and scatter the TIE craft which had been harrying Poe’s squadrons. The fighters rebounded with a vengeance.

“General,” came Jess’s voice. “Permission to join the attack?”

“Go get ‘em, Black Leader. Target the _Subjugator_!” Poe snapped himself out of his momentary daze, reeling off orders again as he and Farrun worked to give some semblance of discipline to their miraculous counterattack. The squadrons moved in, fighters shielding the heavy bombers while the Y-Wings ran ahead, all converging on Ren’s flagship.

The First Order fleet was already in disarray, its formation coming apart as Star Destroyers pulled away from the battle. Shouts went up from the bridge crew.

“They’re running,” D’Acy said in disbelief.

“Better than that,” Lando grinned, his holo snapping into being next to them. “We’ve got ships striking their flags. There are Star Destroyers trying to surrender!”

“They’re trying _what?_ ” Pryde hissed. Beyond the viewports, the _Subjugator_ ’s hull was awash with explosions as Y-Wings unleashed their cargo. They stripped away the surface cannons and cracked the ship’s outer layers of armour. Further back, the heavy bombers were beginning their own attack runs.

It should have been impossible for them to get this far. The ships around the _Subjugator_ should be firing into the mass of craft and leaving nothing but atoms. For that matter, there should be ships around the _Subjugator_ , guarding it.

The trouble was that suddenly, there weren’t. The enemy reinforcements had hit and destroyed several ships already. But worse, others had become inactive or even broken formation, seemingly trying to escape the battle.

Pryde took this all in as Griss repeated his report. Even the admiral was frantic now. “Three, now four Star Destroyers have deactivated their weapons, sir!”

“Impossible.” First Order troops did not surrender. Imperial troops did not go to their knees and beg for mercy. They had fought right up until Jakku, and after that defeat, they’d settled in for the long crawl back to power.

Pryde had endured the shame of exile for years, waiting for the day that the Empire’s successors would have their vengeance and vindication. The day that the Galaxy supplicated itself before them, placed under the boot once again. There would be the brave and the foolhardy resisting them, but they would be destroyed and serve only to demonstrate that submission was the only way.

That was how things worked. Just as Stormtroopers did not defy orders and officers did not intrigue against their legitimate masters, Star Destroyers did not strike their flags just because they were confronted with a mass of puny little ships.

Griss tried to explain. “General, we’ve had messages from the ships to confirm it. From the comms signals, at least two of them have fallen to mutinies by Stormtroopers.”

As the sun lit the surface of Gorothad below, it dawned upon Pryde that something had gone terribly wrong within the First Order. Perhaps something defective from the Empire which they hadn’t managed to purge, or maybe it was a flaw that had wormed its way into their midst over the decades. But now he was watching the regime, and the cause to which he had dedicated his life, unravel.

Something inside him snapped. “ _Cowards!_ ” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips. “Turncoat scum! Fire, fire on those gutless bastards!” He glared at the Resistance ships beyond, seeing the _Solo_ now rising above his vessel. “Recharge the autocannons! We take Dameron with us-”

“Sir, there’s no time!” One of the lieutenants protested. “We can’t stop those bombers! We need to strike our flag!”

Pryde rounded on him. “We do not relent while a single rebel lives!”

He turned back to face the oncoming enemy, ready to issue another oath, but he was out of time. The bombs fell, fire blossomed through the armoured plates of the _Subjugator_ – and the great ship came undone.

For a moment, above the Palace, the flagship’s death outshone the rising sun. Ren reacted as if he had been physically struck, baring his teeth at the ships that now hemmed the skies. There were more Resistance landers descending.

“See what you’ve done?” Finn asked. “Everything you did, everything you took from us… in the end, it all it ever did was unite the Galaxy against you. The First Order is finished.”

“ _Never_!” Ren howled, and attacked again. He went straight for Finn, saber crashing against his and then Rey’s as she took a hand. After another rapid exchange, she locked her blade against his, heaving to push it down. Ren pushed back, but Finn darted in past his guard and opened a deep gash along his thigh.

Ren turned with another bellow of pain, his shoulder cannoning into Rey’s chest, before stabbing at Finn too quickly for him to dodge. Finn veered away, but he felt a searing pain in his shoulder. Ren caught him with the Force and hurled him back. Finn slammed down on the broken stone. But in his fury, Ren had exposed himself. Rey leapt with a yell, and brought her blade slashing down his left arm.

Ren’s head snapped back and he roared at the sky. He wheeled away, but the damage was done. His left arm hung limp at his side, useless, and his posture was hunched from his injuries. There was blood all over his armour, which had been hacked and blasted into a mockery of its onetime solidity. He looked almost as battered as the Palace behind him.

Ren snarled and groaned at his ruined arm, trying in vain to move it, but the torn muscles wouldn’t obey. He was unsteady on his feet now. It was astonishing that he could even stand after all this.

“Ben!” Rey cried out, lowering her saberstaff. “It’s over!” Finn tried to get up, struggling – only for someone to grab him under the arms and pull him up. He looked around him, finding Kaydel and Chewbacca.

The fighting had stilled; the battle was decided. All around him were the Resistance, while the last living First Order troops were on their knees, disarmed. Rey advanced on Ren. They stood alone at the centre of the battle, one battered but whole while the other seemed ready to come apart at the seams. The Supreme Leader, would-be ruler of the Galaxy, was at the mercy of those he had oppressed for so long.

And there was something else that Finn couldn’t see, but Rey and Ren both could. Two glowing blue figures among the Resistance fighters, watching sorrowfully. Luke and Leia.

There wasn’t any judgement in their eyes, and there didn’t need to be. Because in that moment, Kylo Ren saw it all. His invincible legions broken, slain or surrendered. His last allies slain, the deaths of his Knights leaving a hollow void in him. Everything hurt.

He saw civilians among the ranks of the victorious rebels. They stared in bewilderment at the lone, ravaged figure of their oppressor.

That was the bitterest realisation of all. Ren had pictured his death many times; he had imagined falling in battle, dragged down and torn apart as he slashed and spat defiance at his killers. But not this... not standing alone, crippled, and seeing pity in the eyes of his foes.

And he could just spy, at the very edge of his sight, the face of his father. Etched with grief, just as it had been in his last moments.

That was when the dam broke. Regret coursed through him, worse than all the pain he felt. Everywhere Ren looked, there was someone who had been hunted or oppressed in his name. And all it had got him was this, the First Order shattered. Every act, every atrocity, for naught. The follies of the past, recreated.

Which just left one thing to do. End this.

Rey was still, like everyone else, watching her opponent and the spirits of Luke and Leia. Ren held their gaze for a few seconds, then looked back to her. “So this is it.” He looked like a condemned man – and in truth, he was.

She felt the emotions that churned in him as he limped towards her. Pain, anger… but most of all shame, and sorrow. Every terrible deed he’d committed in the name of staying alive, staying on top, had led only to his own ruin.

She saw the intent in his eyes, saw his fingers tightening again on his lightsaber. And despite what she’d said to Luke, she found she didn’t want to do this. She’d imagined him wrathful and defiant to the last. To see him broken like in this way was altogether different.

“Ben…” Rey whispered. After all she’d been through at his hands, she still found herself protesting. “Don’t do this. This doesn’t have to be the way-”

“But it does, Rey.” He shook his head. She knew that he could feel the grief building in her, but still, he wouldn’t lay down his sword. His voice was full of regret, but it remained firm. “This can only end one way. I know what must be done, but I know I haven’t the strength to do it. I can’t _yield_.”

She held back, even as he came within reach. Trying to wait him out, though she knew that he was too stubborn to just fall down and let them take him prisoner. Trying to give him the chance to back down, knowing he wouldn’t take it.

In that moment, staring into one another's eyes, they shared a moment of purest understanding, just as they had on the _Supremacy_ _._

With his one good arm, Ren raised his saber in a final salute. “I understand what this will do to you, but you can finish this. You’re stronger than me.” A small, sad smile crossed his face. “You always were.”

And though the tears were running down her face, Rey lifted her saber in response.

He took a great swing, and then another, but he was too weakened now, too slow. She caught the first blow, batted the second aside, smashed his blade down and then with a wrenching, wordless cry, she rammed her own saber home.

It plunged into his chest, up to the hilt.

So fierce was the pain she felt from him, that for a moment Rey thought she’d taken a blade through her own heart.

She raised her eyes to Ren’s face, expecting to see agony contorting it. Instead, his expression was serene, eyes distant, despite the trembling which ran through him. The red glow which had lit his face died as his saber fell from his hand, and Rey extinguished her own.

He sank to his knees, and she found herself trying to support him, easing him down. Acting on instinct, as he slumped back onto the rockcrete she reached for his saber, laying it on his chest. He placed his hand over it.

His eyes met hers, focusing one last time. “ _Thank you_ ,” he breathed. Then his eyes closed and his head tipped back. In that final moment, the sorrow, turmoil and pain seemed to fall away from him at last. The next thing she knew, he was gone. The last of their link went hollow and cold. Unseen by anyone but her, Luke and Leia bowed their heads and faded away.

There was no sound, except for the crackling of the last fires on the plaza.

Rey crumpled. She shut her eyes, shaking, feeling the sobs well up noiselessly from her chest, and let the tears come. All around her was deafening silence, except for a sorrowful rumble from Chewbacca.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, racked by her grief. But finally, she heard the whine of retros as transport craft descended to the plaza. Then she felt something – a hand on her shoulder. She looked up and saw Finn. And Kaydel, who took her other shoulder and squeezed. With their help Rey got to her feet, turning to spy Chewbacca, Poe and Rose approaching, and the Scrappers close behind.

She met Poe’s eyes, mustered the barest hint of a smile and nodded. Then she slumped into Kaydel’s embrace, and the others piled in, throwing their arms around one another.

She felt the love which radiated off them all, and for a brief time they all forgot everything else.

Eventually Poe stepped away, followed by the others, leaving just Kaydel and Rey as the Scrappers moved in to hug them in turn. Looking over Kaydel’s shoulder, Rey saw Finn and Rose embrace, a little apart from the group. Then movement caught her eye, and she watched Poe step towards the assembled rebels. He lifted his blaster, and the answering cheer shook the plaza.

It wrung a gasp out of Rey which was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Kaydel pulled back a little, gazing into her eyes. “You did it, Rey.”

Rey put her arm around Kaydel’s waist, turning her to look out over the plaza. The red tinge to the sunlight was falling away as the sun climbed, and now a golden glow suffused the air. “ _We_ did it.”

She spotted Jaicyn and Jannah with their ragged company, Finn walking over to embrace them both. All of them were battered, and Jaicyn was sporting a bloody nose and black eye, but when Jannah punched the air and shouted “Freedom!” they took it up without hesitation.

They repeated it once, with more joining in, then twice – this time it seemed like the whole rebel army took it up. Rey threw her head back and yelled it to the sky, thrusting up with her saber while Kaydel too joined in the cheer.

And somehow that moment made all the struggle, all the pain, worth it.

When she looked back at the square, she saw Poe standing alone amid it all, looking reflective and quietly proud. He looked to them and smiled. Then BB-8 came rolling up, and they all went to greet the little droid.


	47. As the Dust Settles

Cheering and laughter were unusual sounds for Gorothad. To Hux, they might as well have been nails down a blackboard. The Palace rang with a cacophony of celebration, polluting the silence of the great halls.

They’d come for him some time after the sounds of fighting had subsided. The prison guards had yielded with disgusting speed when the Resistance broke down the doors and told them their Supreme Leader was no longer among the living.

There were a few rebels held under Gorothad, along with political prisoners of other kinds. Almost all of them had been set free. Hux, however, had remained locked away until a hulking Kaleesh warrior hauled his cell door open. He hadn’t done anything about Hux’s restraints, and dragged him from the cell without a word.

There were still fallen Stormtroopers all over the Palace. Hux’s reptilian handler was obliged to step over and around them as he led him through the corridors and hallways. There was a steady stream of Stormtroopers and First Order officers in restraints, being herded in the opposite direction. The First Order had been beaten into submission in the very heart of its domain. Hux’s chance to sit on the throne would never come. It all added up to a gnawing, hollow feeling in his chest.

A more visceral horror was waiting outside in the morning light. As he was marched down the steps by the Kaleesh, there was a flash and rumble from atop one of the towers. The great stone carving of the First Order’s symbol had been blown up – not just blown up, vaporised.

Hux stared in shock, a feeling which only deepened as everyone around him hollered, clapped and punched the air. It seemed emblematic of the catastrophe which he and Ren had unwittingly brought down upon the First Order. In a handful of weeks, Gorothad had gone from being the seat of the reborn Empire, to the site of its crushing defeat. Their triumph gone in an instant, just like the symbol.

“Ah,” growled the Kaleesh, following it with a _ruk-ruk_ laugh. “Prettiest firework I’ve ever seen. Come on now Hux.” He dragged Hux onward. “Best we get you to the Commander, I think.”

This was what it had all come to. Ren and Pryde dead, but Hux could hardly take credit for that. The First Order fallen. Rebels and civilian trash dancing – dancing! – in sight of the Palace of Discipline. Everything Hux had ever worked for, torn down and mocked. He let his head sag, staring glumly at the ground as he was led forward. He couldn’t imagine anything fouler than this.

And yet something even worse was waiting for him. Because when the Kaleesh finally dragged him to his superior officer, Hux raised his eyes to find...

“No,” he protested. Then: “ _You?_ ”

“Funny,” Finn replied. “Ren said something similar. So he didn’t finish you off, huh?”

Hux found his lips were moving, protesting against the wrongness, the _unfairness_ of it all, but somehow he couldn’t make a sound. Worst of all, when his victorious enemy saw it, his expression was not of scorn, but pity. Pity for the man who had ordered the destruction of the Hosnian System! Was this truly what Armitage Hux had been reduced to?

The traitor turned to the Kaleesh. “Appreciate the thought, Olesin, and believe me I’m tempted. But it’s probably best we stick him back in the cells. The general here has a lot to answer for, and the whole Galaxy to answer to. We’ll want to keep him cooped up until then.”

The Kaleesh glanced at Hux. “I’d prefer to settle it like we do on Kalee, but by your word, Commander.”

“Good call.” Then Finn turned back to Hux. “You might want to wash while you’re inside, Armitage. Best you look good for your trial.” And with a light pat on the cheek, just where Hux had once struck his own face, he dismissed the onetime general.

Poe had his feet up when Finn and Rose entered the strategium, a cheerful gesture of disrespect to the defeated enemy. A few other officers milled around the chamber, repurposing the holo displays to show the wider city as well as communicate with the commanders up in orbit, like Farrun. The admiral appeared as a hologram.

“It’s all a bit messy up here,” Farrun admitted, favouring the newcomers with a quick salute. “We’ve still trying to do a headcount of everyone trying to surrender. How’s it on the ground, General?”

“Big old clean-up down here, too.” Poe spotted them and waved them over. “Pull up a chair, guys!”

Rose took a seat. Finn hopped up to sit on the table itself, which prompted an amused smile from Poe. One of the junior officers, after a brief hesitation, pulled out a camera and took a quick shot. That would be an iconic image within a few weeks of the battle.

Poe leaned forward. “So Hux is still alive?”

“Uh huh.”

“Not that he deserves to be,” Rose pointed out.

“True, but this way he gets to be condemned by the whole Galaxy.”

“Not gonna be much of a trial,” Finn said. “Exhibit A was broadcast all over when they did Hosnia.”

“It’ll still be satisfying. Same as sitting here.” One of Poe’s boots thumped a little on the table, making the holos flicker briefly. “You know, guys, I think Leia would be proud of us.”

“Han and Luke too,” Finn returned. “Even if Han would be kicking our asses and telling us to make ourselves useful.”

Poe laughed, getting up. “And so we should. I’m gonna get over to the Inquisition’s fortress and see what we can salvage. How about you?”

“We’ll head into the city. Rey’s got our people here working smoothly, so I’ll take Phoenix Company and go lead the clean-up somewhere else.” Finn looked up at the dome above them, somehow still intact after all that had happened to the Palace. He felt elated, a sensation of freedom the like of which he couldn’t recall feeling before.

They’d come to the heart of the First Order’s power, and they’d blown it wide open in the name of the Galaxy. He almost wished Phasma was here to see it.

Poe had more immediate concerns, and pointed to the dressing on Finn’s shoulder. “You good to lift with that?”

In truth, Finn’s body was a mess of aches. He was bruised all over and his wound from Ren still throbbed a little, but he shrugged it off. “I’ll try, and if I can’t, I can still direct others. We’re in this to help people, no?” Poe nodded. Rose had never looked prouder. They stood to leave, but something made Finn pause at the threshold and turn back to Poe. “Wait. You said the Inquisition fortress. What are you after there?”

“Well, intel to get the planet running again,” Poe said, “but they’ve also got archives on the whole Stormtrooper program, details on every single conscript. Including the worlds and families they were taken from. I want to give all of that back.”

The surge of emotion that Finn felt almost rocked him back on his heels. “You’d do that?”

“No question, pal. If not for you, and everyone else who renounced the First Order, we’d never have made it here. Don’t imagine that I’d ever forget that.”

Finn grinned broadly. He just had one thing to add before he left. One thing which it only seemed right to tell Poe. “You are right, you know. Leia would be very proud.”

There was, it transpired, still lots to be done after the battle. The first thing on the list was undoing the damage which the First Order’s brief civil war had inflicted, clearing the lower city levels of debris and rescuing people who’d been trapped in the chaos. Rey, Chewie and Kaydel had left Finn, Rose and Poe to deal with matters in the Palace. Along with the rest of the Resistance ground troops, they headed down to help out with the relief and repair efforts.

Kaydel moved through the throng, handing out medpacks, food and drink to those in need while Rey and the Scrappers leant their efforts to clearing away the wreckage and rubble. It was hard going but, aided by soldiers and civilians, they were making good progress. There were even Stormtrooper conscripts who’d deserted during the battle, and were now helping out with the relief work.

“I’m going to need another massage when this is over,” Rey told Kaydel when she caught her for a brief gulp of water. “Seems a Jedi’s work is never quite done.”

“At least the hardest is over,” Kaydel smiled back. Rey nodded, conceding, and got back to work.

As the daylight took hold properly, they seemed to be drawing a crowd. Plenty of civilians had already taken a hand, but others appeared to watching the Resistance more than anything else.

“They’re still cheering when they see us,” LM commented, somehow managing to sound amused as he lugged away another piece of scrap. “Never been applauded for just lifting things before.”

“Is that a good change?” Ki’rii asked the old gladiator droid, handing out ration packs to the cluster of children which had gathered around her.

LM reflected for a moment. “Yes, I like it. Just hope Nyzar and Cylarei can see us now.” Rey caught his eyes and nodded, clapping him lightly on the shoulder.

It was while they took a break, sat on the remains of a TIE Fighter, that Rey caught a little girl looking at her. More specifically, looking at the saberstaff which jutted slightly over her shoulder. Rey followed the child’s eyes to it, then back to the girl. She seemed ready to shrink away until Rey smiled at her. That, after a moment, was enough to coax her forward, and Rey crouched down to greet her.

“Hello.”

“Hello," was all the awestruck girl could manage at first. "You’re… you’re the Jedi.”

Rey nodded, but held up a finger to correct her. “I’m _one_ of the Jedi. There are two of us now, and we’re going to find more.”

“But you’re _the_ Jedi, the one who beat Kylo Ren.”

Rey felt sorrow at that, but she didn’t let it show. “Yes. But I don’t think I caught _your_ name, Miss…”

“Teika,” the girl beamed. “Teika Beratan. What’s yours?”

“Rey.” She saw the question forming in the girl’s mind, and smiled softly. “Just Rey – or rather I was. Now I’m Rey of the Resistance, and Rey of the Jedi. Now, Teika, is that your mother over there? Yes? I think she’d like you back.”

Once she was confident that Teika was rejoining her mother, she turned back and found Kaydel before her. There was a curious smile playing on her lips, and it only got broader when Rey quirked an eyebrow in silent query.

“Now you’re wearing the name right,” Kaydel said.

“Thanks. Still,” she added, putting her arms loosely around Kaydel’s shoulders and resting her forehead against hers. “Though I do feel like Rey Connix might have a nice ring to it.”

“Hey, all in good time,” Kaydel replied, hugging her back. But she couldn’t hide her happiness even if she’d wanted to, and bobbed up on her toes to kiss Rey. “I love you, scavenger.”

Several hours later, she entered the throne room, alone. Well, not entirely alone – a blue glow appeared in one corner by the gate and became Luke.

This time, he favoured her with a bow first. “The conquering knight. How’s victory treating you, Rey?”

Stiffly, Rey returned the bow. “I’m ready to lie down,” she said. “I’m ready to lie down and not get up again for a very, very long time.”

The heavy bombing which had presaged Kylo Ren’s attack had even damaged this place. There was a hole in the high ceiling, letting light spill into the throne room and dispelling the gloom which had suffused it before. Nor had the throne itself been spared. A great chunk of the ceiling had come loose and dropped right down on it. The high-backed, carven seat had been obliterated, smashed into fragments of black marble. The largest were as big as Rey’s foot. The remains of stone plinths also lay around her, any objects they had supported all crushed or shattered.

The sum effect was almost farcical, she thought. After all they’d been through to get here, the First Order’s own infighting had taken care of the throne.

“Pity,” she remarked. “Finn was looking forward to smashing it up.” It was only a symbol when all was said and done, but these things mattered.

“We never really get everything we want,” Luke responded. “What matters is, there’s no longer anyone on the throne.” He must have seen her face fall, however slight the change in expression was. “It hurt to end it, didn’t it?”

She nodded. “Yes. But Ben Solo’s finally at peace, isn’t he Master?”

Sorrow tinted Luke’s expression a little at that. “There’s a lot for his spirit to reckon with, but he repented in the end. That alone counts for a lot.”

“It’s still…” she felt her throat tighten before she carried on, “wrenching, to see the Skywalkers and Solos end like this.”

“I know.” Luke bowed his head a little. “But it’s only the end from one perspective. From where I’m standing, the Skywalker and Solo legacies are alive and well in you and your friends. The compassion, the will to do what’s right, just that _dash_ of recklessness…”

Rey laughed a little at that, and she felt a surge of pride and happiness in her heart that beat out the sorrow.

Luke returned her smile. “The same goes for the Jedi. A thousand generations live in you now – and in Finn.”

Rey inclined her head a little. “I’m very aware of that, and honoured – on counts. And on that last note…”

There was a wry, knowing look in his eye. “You don’t mean to stay here long, do you Rey?”

“We’ve got two Jedi now,” she replied, “but I only call that a start. Finn and I need to begin building in earnest – or at least we should start figuring out how. I mean,” she added, “neither of us are close to being masters yet. We’ve still got plenty to learn.”

“Oh, that never changes for anyone, Jedi or not.” Luke winked. He was already slipping gradually out of sight. “The trick is to not forget that, even when you’re a master. That, and remembering that the Force is with you all. Be seeing you, Rey.”


	48. Epilogue

Weeks passed in a blur. The First Order’s collapse had been sudden, its abrupt show of weakness meeting with immediate retribution from the people it had oppressed. That then triggered its own flurry of events as people across the Galaxy suddenly found the yoke lifted off their shoulders. The process of putting a new government in place, where Kylo Ren's regime had been, was going to run for months and probably years.

Most of Rey’s time consisted of aiding in the relief efforts, both on Gorothad and the other Throne Worlds. Ren and Hux’s civil war, brief though it had been, had done immense harm across the heartlands of the First Order. There were injuries to be tended to, hungry people to be fed and shattered infrastructure and homes to be rebuilt.

Quite aside from helping people who’d been caught up in the carnage, the Resistance and their allies had their hands full with salvaging their own ships and the enemy’s war machines alike. The forces of the reborn Republic looked like they were going to be even more of a hodgepodge than the Resistance’s for years to come.

And while all this went on, the representatives of ten thousand systems had begun to thrash out the matter of just how the Galaxy would be restored to democracy. The old argument over a permanent Senate and seat of government was brewing again. At least it was only that, however – an argument – and everyone had the memory of the First Order to spur them to work together.

Rey knew she’d have to learn about these matters eventually, when the new Jedi Order finally took form. But for now they simply made her head spin, so she left that business to Poe, Lando and the other leaders of the Resistance.

After all, the Resistance had some matters of their own to attend to. They’d lost a great many people in the fighting on and over Gorothad. That meant names to record, memorial services to hold, families to contact and console. And just as importantly, an urge to take stock of and be grateful for the friends who’d come through alive. Rey found herself reminded of that every time she looked at her companions. It was an unfamiliar state, but for the first time Rey felt truly free; free from the spectre of starvation which had dogged her on Jakku and the looming threat of the First Order.

When she had time to spare, she often wandered the Palace with Kaydel or Finn and Rose. The structure was changing under the mass of scaffolding, like everything else on Gorothad. That much was rather inevitable after what Ren and Hux had done to the place between them. No one was entirely sure what was going to be done with the sprawling building, but its menacing aspect was clearly on the way out. Plenty of Resistance ships still hung in orbit, standing guard over the planet.

Statues and other solemn monuments had been raised with surprising speed to fallen heroes of the Resistance. Luke, Han and Leia stood among them. Rey looked upon the faces which had been so faithfully captured by the sculptors, and an involuntary smile broke out on her face. No matter that the Skywalker line had ended, the things that they and Solos had stood for were alive and well today.

Not that that end went unmourned. Amidst all the bustle, Rey had found time to carry out the last rites for Ben Solo, with Finn and Chewbacca’s help. It had been a small, private funeral, building a pyre in a courtyard and setting it to burn. A strange way to bid farewell to the man who had been her greatest enemy, and so many other more complicated things besides. But it felt right to Rey; one more piece of the past she could at last lay to rest.

The saber went to the flames with its wielder, but she hung onto the Kyber crystal it had contained. In due time she would heal it, restoring it from its corrupted state. Eventually, that crystal would be handed on to a new Jedi, an apprentice of Rey’s own. Somehow, that seemed fitting to her.

A few weeks after the Battle of Gorothad found the Millennium Falcon sat on a landing platform, stocked and fuelled for a long voyage. Rey, Finn, Kaydel, Rose and Chewbacca were venturing back out into the Galaxy.

As to just which course they were setting, Rey wasn’t sure, though Rose had suggested Canto Bight as an early stop. After that, it all depended on where their search led them – and how long it took the people trawling the First Order’s archives to find Finn’s homeworld. A huge research program was now underway, looking to reunite families ripped apart by the old regime.

In the meantime, though, Rey and her friends had their own mission. They would go looking for potential Jedi to join them in founding the new Order, and somewhere to build it.

Where exactly they’d do that was also an open question – except for no desert planets, a veto Rey had called from the start. Maybe Ach-To, if the Caretakers were willing to put up with Rey a second time. There might be an opening, she thought, if they went and helped patch up the crumbling old temple, then left the Caretakers in peace for a few years. It might be a while before Rey and Finn started teaching anyone properly.

On the other hand, perhaps they’d stake out some new territory. She smiled at the thought. Nothing was set yet, and that was just fine by her. She was free at last to chart her own path; reforging the Jedi into a new form because she thought it was the right thing to do. And just as she’d dreamed of aloud to Kaydel, she was free to set a course to a planet purely because she or one of the others wanted to go there. All with her friends and the woman she loved at her side.

They had a little collection of ships assembled; Jannah and some of her old division had decided to come with them. The rest were staying with Poe, under Arron’s leadership. The captain – now commander in recognition of his deeds – had finally acquired a replacement hand, along with a new uniform in Republic colours. “Worth the wait,” he told them.

A crowd had gathered to see them depart, though they kept back from the landing platform. Which was to be expected. Their coming departure had been common knowledge for a few days, and people went out of their way to get a glimpse of the heroes of the Resistance.

Rey turned to Poe. “Are you sure we can’t drag you away with us?”

“You probably could, but I’m still needed here for a while,” Poe smiled. “Someone’s gotta be seen to keep order while the politicians figure everything out.”

“Just so,” C-3PO put in. “For the time being, our irregular little army are the closest the Republic has to a standing military.”

“True,” added Poe. “But, Force willing, things will be sorted out before long and I’ll be coming after you soon. I reckon Arron will be good to stand in for me.” He knelt down to fuss over BB-8. “So it won’t be too long, eh buddy? I know, they’ll be good to you while you’re away.” He looked up at Rey. “Take care of him, right?”

She beamed. “Always, General.”

“I think,” he replied as he straightened up, “that all things considered, ‘Poe’ is alright.” He put his hands on her and Finn’s shoulders, casting a fond look around the group. “Look after each other, try not to do anything I wouldn’t approve of, and if you _do_ , make sure you come back with a good story. But most of all, enjoy your adventures.”

“I wholeheartedly concur,” said Threepio.

As one, they enfolded Poe and the startled protocol droid in an unwieldy embrace, before finally breaking away with a few murmured goodbyes and boarding the Falcon, waving cheerily at the crowd.

Rey sank into the pilot’s seat, tapping a finger fondly against one of the dice while Chewbacca fiddled with the controls.

They rose off the ground, the other craft launching with them, and turned so they could see Poe and the others on the platform below.

BB-8 wobbled next to Rey’s feet, chittering.

“Yes, he’s waving,” she laughed. “And I’m waving for you, don’t worry.” Her hand moved to the accelerator. “Now hang on, we’ve got a long road ahead.”

The Falcon tilted skyward and streaked into the outer atmosphere, the deep blue giving way to an open starfield. Kaydel leaned forward to put a hand on Rey’s shoulder, grinning when Rey turned and smiled back at her.

Finn and Rose, squeezed into their shared seat, smiled too.

Then Rey turned back to the view ahead. Space stretched out before her, beckoning her on. Adventure and belonging, it all lay ahead.

She punched the hyperdrive, watching the stars distort, stretching off into infinity – and they were away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are! If you've made it this far, I hope you've enjoyed it and thanks so much for coming along on this ride.
> 
> Huge thanks again to everyone who helped out with this project. The story wouldn't be half of what it is without your input.


End file.
